#but i guess then you can’t do the ‘why are mushrooms great at parties’ joke

[oysters-aint-for-me]

there is a book about fungi by a man name Merlin Sheldrake. Merlin. Sheldrake. not in a million years could i have come up with a better name for a fungi enthusiast myself. say it out loud—Merlin Sheldrake—and just try to tell me that’s not man who knows how to love a fungus. A+ no notes

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 16

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2  ☆ chapter 3  ☆ chapter 4  ☆ chapter 5  ☆ chapter 6  ☆ chapter 7  ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14 ☆ chapter 15

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.6k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

I blinked a few times as I stared at my best friend who was simply raising her eyebrows at me with a begging face. It was the third day of us spending time together and if I wanted to be honest, I was not completely over the fact that we had seen Grace the day before. I couldn't take it out of my mind of all evening and Millie and I didn't have a long night. We just ate, watched a movie, and I went to bed. I knew my friend was totally aware of what was happening and I suspected that she didn't mention it because she also needed some time alone.

Last night, right after we ate, Louis had came back. He was alone, fortunately, but he barely talked to us. He just grabbed a bag of chips and locked himself in his room, resulting in Millie and I both a bit confused, angry and sad after seeing the person we still had feelings for on the same day.

That's why today, I wanted to do something else and stop thinking about Grace for a while, but Millie's suggestion was not something I would have thought about, ever.

"Mill, I can't dance."

"Oh yea, I'm not really good either. That's why they call it a dance class."

I rolled my eyes and sighed but she took a step closer, intertwining her fingers together in an attempt to beg me.

"Please please please!" she continued, moving her chin up as she sent me puppy eyes. "I have a wedding to attend in a few weeks and I'm gonna have to dance!"

"Like the way you dance in sweatpants in the living room?" I joked, my lips curling into a smirk.

"Exactly! What if a pretty boy asks me to dance and I keep stepping on his feet?" she argued, getting closer again and tilting her head before grabbing my arms. "Please, Niall! Maybe I'll dance with the love of my life! Do it for the pretty boy!"

Her arguments made me chuckle and I rolled my eyes. "Fine, fine! But I don't do it for the pretty boy, I do it for my best friend!"

"How lucky are they!" she replied, smiling more.

"It's you, silly!"

Her eyes roamed on my face for a few seconds and I held my breath when she threw herself in my arms. Her arms wrapped around my neck, choking me slightly as she jumped a bit, bringing me up and down with her.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

"Yea yea," I replied, trying to hug her back without much success. "Now please I can't breathe!"

I cleared my throat when she pulled away and frowned for half a second at the odor reaching my nose. It smelled like candies, a mix of sugar and fruits, and I just smiled when I remembered how much Millie loved candies. She had probably eaten a few not so long ago and the smell had stayed. I didn't know why but I liked it. It was a good change from the very expensive perfume Grace was wearing.

"What do I have to wear?"

"Clothes, preferably." she let out with sarcasm, a smile on her lips.

"You're missing out, I look amazing naked."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Yea, I'll never know." she pointed out, making my lips curl more. "Just bring comfortable shoes, I guess."

I expected the evening to be long and boring, but dancing with Millie was actually quite entertaining, like everything we did together. I grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to make her twirl, and surprisingly, the movement was graceful and in perfect rhythm. She ended up facing me with a large grin as I stopped her with my hand on her waist. She laughed, shocked by what we had just accomplished, but I sort of thought it was only luck. In fact, I highly doubted we could do it again,

"That was great! You're so good at this!" she let out.

Her hand was on my shoulder and her thumb brushed lightly against the skin of my neck, making me shiver.

"Thanks, but I don't think we'll be able to do it again." I admitted with a chuckle, shaking my head.

"Don't be a party popper okay?" she argued, raising her eyebrows and tilting her chin down. "You need to stay positive!"

Once again, I rolled my eyes as the music started again. We tried dancing one more time but I had a hard time remembering where to put my feet and after a while, we just started laughing together. In the spur of the moment, I moved farther, holding her hand, before pulling her back to me and making her twirl again. When she stopped moving, facing me, my hand squeezed her waist slightly and she chuckled, her eyes getting bigger, once again amazed by how perfect that movement was.

"See? We did it again!"

"Okay, you were right, we're really good at this!"

"It's a gift!"

---

As soon as we stepped foot out of the building, I reached for Millie's hand and made her twirl again. The smile she was now permanently wearing grew even bigger as mine did the same. She giggled and squeezed my fingers before letting go of my hand and we walked to my car in silence.

I waited until she put her seatbelt on to start the car and as I drove, I could feel her gaze on me.

"Thanks for coming with me, Niall." she let out gently, leaning her head on the bench.

"No problem, T'was fun!"

I was surprised of it myself but this evening had been pleasant and my stomach actually hurt from laughing so much. I glanced at my best friend as I turned on our street and realized that it was always fun with Millie. We got along great and we made each other discover things that we definitely wouldn't have by ourselves. I liked that. I liked knowing Millie was helping me becoming a better version of myself, and I hoped I was helping her do the same thing.

"You promised you'd cook for me." she pointed out as I unlocked the door.

I chuckled, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. "A promise is a promise!" I let out loud enough for her to hear as she joined me. "What would you like to eat?"

"Spaghetti. I'm in that mood."

I got back up and turned to her, raising my eyebrows and sending her an amused smile. "Are you serious?"

"Very."

"I'm ready to cook for you and you literally ask me the easiest meal ever thought of?" I argued before shaking my head and chuckling low. "Alright!"

Millie sat on the counter while I cut a few vegetables for my sauce before boiling water. I handed a mushroom to my friend who grabbed it and quickly ate it, making me smile again.

"Are you gonna help me at all?"

"No."

"You're such a lazy ass!" I laughed, making her shrug.

"I was always the one cooking with Louis when you weren't there. I hate cooking."

I looked up at her and my lips curled on the right sadly. It was the first time on that day that one of us talked about a love relationship and it made me feel a bit down. We were doing so well without them, yet we couldn't help ourselves from mentioning them. It made sense, after all. We used to spend so much time with them that we could link many memories, activities, discussions and thoughts to them.

"You should add that to your list."

Millie scoffed but still sent me a small smile. "What? That I can't cook?"

"No, that he wouldn't do it."

Millie stole an other mushroom from the plate and I slapped her fingers quickly, making her frown as she let out a quick 'ow!'

"You need to find yourself a boyfriend or a girlfriend that can actually cook."

We remained in silence for a few minutes and my gaze kept moving from my sauce to my best friend. I could see emotions appear and leave on her face and somehow, I wished I could read her mind.

"Actually, Louis didn't do much of the things I enjoyed." she admitted, making me frown a bit. "I asked but most of the time he said no, or he canceled, or he didn't show up. That's why it means so much that you came with me today, Niall. No one else would have done that for me."

I felt my heart break a bit in my chest and turned to her, placing my hands on each sides of her thighs before tilting my chin up to look in her eyes. She seemed sincere, sad, and slightly embarrassed, and I moved closer until my stomach pressed against her knees.

"Louis is like a brother to me, but he was an ass with you. He never treated you like a real girlfriend and it's a fucking shame. Mill, you deserve so much better, do you realize that?"

Her eyes traveled gently on my face, her traits softened and she moved a lock of her behind her ear. I was staring at her, making sure she knew how serious I was, and she finally nodded very slowly.

"Now." I let out louder, pushing myself away with my hands before turning back to my sauce. "You taste this and tell me if it's good."

I grabbed a spoon quickly and gathered some sauce in it before bringing it up to her, my hand right under it in case it would drip. I stared at her as she tasted it slowly, licking her lips and tilting her head on the left.

"So? Verdict?" I insisted, raising my eyebrows up.

"Perfect."

"I would have been insulted if you hadn't used that word." I admitted with a smile. "This is the easiest thing to cook.”

Millie laughed and got down from the counter to help me prepare the plates and we finally sat together at the table. I ate slowly, watching her do the same, and when she leaned against her chair, I grabbed my beer and took a sip.

"Okay, it's time." Millie let out with a sigh, taking a paper out of her pocket and unfolding it.

I found it a bit funny that we both kept our lists in our pockets. I thought it would end up obsessing me or that I'd always feel it burn against my thigh but most of the time, I forgot about it to enjoy my day and I was pretty sure it was the same for my best friend.

I moved closer, leaning slightly on the table to see what she was writing.

'He can't cook'

'He never did things that would have made me happy'

I breathed in and reached out for the sheet, sliding it slowly to me. Millie looked up and frowned but I just had to do it. I didn't know much about the relationship Millie and Louis had together. I knew they were close, I knew sometimes they were very cute with each other, and that other times they barely acted like friends, but I didn't know how hurt Millie had been through this whole relationship and somehow, I felt like she didn't know either. I felt like she was just realizing that she was better off without him.

I took the pen from her hand and quickly scribbled something.

'You deserve better. You deserve the best.'

I added my name right next to it to say it came from me and when she read what I had written, she smiled fondly and tilted her head. I could read in her eyes how grateful she was and I mirrored the same loving smile to her for a few seconds before taking my own list out of my pocket.

"Okay, my turn."

I stared at the name of my ex girlfriend written on top and sighed low, closing my eyes for a few seconds. The more I thought about it, the more I found it ridiculous to go back and date someone who's only good point was that I actually loved her. Love was not everything and despite what everyone thinks, it doesn't heal everything, especially if the person you love is the person who also broke you.

What actually took me out of my thoughts was the sound of my phone. I jumped slightly, a bit too deeply lost in my thoughts, and searched my pocket quickly. I held my breath and felt my lips part when I saw the name written on the screen. Summer. Suddenly, I felt extremely guilty. Once again, I had sort of forgotten about her. I only had written one bad thing on the list about her and had been too focused on the way I felt for Grace and spending time with Millie to even take the time to message Summer. I could always pretend I just didn't want to bother her but I couldn't lie to myself.

'I miss you, I can't wait to see you'

The words made me swallow and the cute little emoji with hearts around its head made my heart skip a beat. Unfortunately, it was out of guilt, and not out of excitement.

"Who is it?"

"Summer." I replied low.

"Oh."

Millie had only whispered her word and it made me believe that she had realized too that we had barely talked about Summer in the past few days. I held my thumbs over the letters, not really sure what I should type back. I didn't want to lie, and I didn't want to say the truth either. It made me remember that I hadn't even touched myself at all since the last time I had sex with Summer and it surprised me.

"D'you miss her?"

I looked up at Millie who was raising her eyebrows at me, waiting for an answer. If I could be honest with someone, it was definitely her, and I shrugged a shoulder.

"I mean, not really." I confessed, making my best friend's lips part too. "I'm not to the stage that I actually have feelings for her, and sex with her is good but not... flabbergasting, you know? Plus, we've been super busy doing a bunch of things, I didn't really have time to miss her."

"But you had time to miss Grace."

I sighed and looked down before nodding. "I guess."

"You know, Niall, you don't have to justify yourself with me. You feel what you feel, and that's it. It's not like you can control your feelings. You can only control the way you react because of those feelings. That's what shows who you are as a person."

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, trying to keep my tears in. It was the third day and I only had about four more to decide who I wanted to be with. Of course, I could always take more time, but how unfair to both girls would that be? I couldn't just keep them around for weeks until I make a decision. The problem was, I had no idea who I wanted to be with. I had no idea what to do.

"Tell me, Mill, which one should I pick?" I asked in a murmur.

I felt Millie's hand on mine and my eyes fluttered open to stare at her fingers squeezing mine.

"I can't choose for you Niall, you know that." she explained softly. "Just don't force yourself to do anything. It's your life. Your feelings. In the end, you need to take this decision for you."

I looked up in her eyes and held her hand tighter. She was right, I knew it, but I felt like I would never be completely happy, no matter which choice I'd make.

[vyladromeave]

SHABOWKNIGHT HEADCANONS PLASTERBOATS

This is how Shabowknights work in my brain. It just is. 

(Warning this is super long. like really long. its literally like 69k+ words im not kid. ding. i did include a couple poupble to help break up the bup the text. so. good lick.)

BECOMING A SHADOWKNIGHT

There is only one requirement for a person to become a shadowknight: you gotta feel it. you gotta reel it. you gotta feel it in the heart of the cards. sometimes ur having a rough day and youknow what thats fine. the shadowlord is totally there for you. hes your homie. your bro. your bromie. he can be anything you want him to be. but most importantly he is here for YOU. hes the cool boss. he lets you slack off on fridays, he puts slightly outdated memes in his powerpoint presentations. all for you. you’re welcome.

Now I hear what you’re thinking. What happens when the Shadowlord has a bad day? He can’t always be there for you, right? Wrong. The Shadowlord is on that grind, as the kids say. The grind never stops. no breaks. Stops? no stops. the only thing the Shadowlord is putting a stop to is ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ʀᴜ'ᴀᴜɴ ʀᴇɢɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ-ʟᴏʀᴅ sʏsᴛᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴs ɪᴛ. Hes up all night and all day, working hard for you. give him a big thank you.

Not convinced? here’s a cool diagram he made for you. this could be us. you could be partially dead BUT holding hands with your best bro the Shadowlord. and really, what’s better than that? ghat? yeah? no. nothing. nothing is better. look at this diagram and fucking weep.

•

SHADOWKNIGHTS AND IMMORTALITY

All Shadowknights are immortal, as in immune to giving a shit. they just dont give a shit. they can just sit around for hours not giving a shit. do you give a shit? you shouldnt. you shoulding. houlding. hold mushrrom. thats what you should be doing right now. what are you waiting for? well???????????

If you were a Shadowknight, you could be holding a mushroom right now. That’s right. a whole mushroom just for you. but you arent. so you wont. why not? what’s stopping you? pledging your undying allegiance to the Shadowlord isnt so bad, we promise. it rocks, actually. we have pizza parties at the end of every month. does your employer hold pizza parties at the end of every month? I didn’t fucking think so.

Now I know what you’re thinking. But I dont waaaannnaaa kill the person I love the most! Well guess what? Sometimes you have to make hard decisions in life. Which is why you’re lucky that this decision is actually an easy one! I mean think about it, end of the month pizza party, mortal emotional attatchments. attachemnts. atatchments. fuck. however you spell it. Which one sounds cool as hell? Thats right. I don’t even have to say it. you know the answer. you already know the answer. i put it in your breain and it stays there.

•

Your favorite pizza topping.

What do you want on your pizza? I know you’re technically not one of the bros yet, but theres no way you wont be after all this, so I figured I’d go ahead and get your order down. Yeah i know the pizza party is a month away. im not ordering it right now. im ordering it later. that way its still fresh when it shows up. 

Although the delivery times out here in the nether kinda stink if I’m being honest. dont tell the shadowlord I said that though. he puts in a lot of time and effort to making sure everything is cool down here and like, really he doesn’t need to worry about the whole pizza delivery thing. like he already puts in so much time, the least i can do is cover the pizza thing yknow? 

I actually made the pizzas one month. have you ever made hundreds of personal pan custom pepperoni pizzas. its a lot of work. seriously. I kept burning them. so many burnt personal pan piping hot pipper pepper pepperoni personal pan personal pizzas. luckily im immune to fire, and i can never die. if you were one of the bros, you could be too. here’s your pizza.

•

Consuming the Pizza

Go on. eat it. I made it for you. what do you mean when did I have time to make a pizza? just now, while we were talking. didn’t you notice? maybe not. I’m good at making pizzas quickly now. ive had a lot of practice. maybe we could make some personal pan pinni mini pan pepperoni pizzas togethethter sometime.

oh my god. wait. im an idiot. im a fool. i was so focused on making you your personal pan pipini piziza pepperoni peper piza that i didnt even hear what you wanted for your toppings. im so sorry. oh my gosh im so sorry. i really didn’t mean to, i just got caught up in the moment. really. i promise. i know this reflects really badly on the whole shadowknight thing, but i promise this is a rare occasion. really. all the bros here in the nether are really kind and thoughtful, so stuff like this rarely ever happens. I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

maybe its better that we dont have personal pipizini personal pan papaza pizzas. im not actually that good at making the pizazis. i lied. im sorry. im so sorry. this doesnt normally happen. i just wanted to sound cool. its been so long since someone’s considered joining the bros, i just wanted you to really like me. im so sorry. oh my god. im so sorry.

•

A Reformed Pizza

The pizza is metaphorical. we’re still friends, right? we’re still bros? future potential bros? the potential kinetic mechanical energy of bros? thats a little science joke for you, whwhwhere i just said the science words. I havent learned about science in a while, ive been stuck down here making personal pan pizzazos for a while. im sorry about the pizza thing again, by the way. i tossed  your bad personal pan pizza in the lava pool over there to make up for how sucks it was. it was really bad. yeah. its probably a good thing that nobody ate it.

A Sturdier Pizza

The pizza is literal. We can make a new pizza. together. with my powers and yours combined. give me your hand. we are holding hands now. these are the hands that will make a new pizza. together. we can do it if we believe. do you believe? in our new world? in our now pizza? you should. you should believe. you better fucking believe it.

look at thsi shit. ohhhhooooooollyf uck. look at that pizza. holy shit. look at that piza. holy shit. balls.

•

Natural Abiblibties

sorry im still jsut thinkginbg aboutt he pizza. homygod. holy shit. did youz seetheat pizza. did you see it. arey you looking. at the pizza. ohmygodc. look at thits. is. its. the pizza. its fucking perfect look at it. ive never made a pizza like that before. we diddit tofgotehr. we did it. the pizza. we did it.

iknow itsnoth the end of the month yet but iwant to have a pizza party. lets do it again. we’re strong enough. we can take on anything tofeger. antyhign. even pizza. especially pizaz. we can. iknow you dont believe it but its strue. lets do it again. lets make a pizza one more time. what dtopping do you want to put on it this time? mushrrom? we can do mushrrom.

here. im handing you a mushrrom. you can put it on the pizza. its a topping. there are many toppings you can put on pizza. you can put on extra cheese too. then iets ecxtra cheesy. cheesy peezy. pizza.

lets do it together.

•

Additional Pizzas

we’ve made so many pizzas. thatslike two whole pizzas. wholy fuck. holy shit. thats twho whole pizzas. bro. thats great! thats amazing! thats two more pizzas than we had before. like seriously we set our mind to the piizza and our brain to the pizza and you smush it and you sus it and then you pizza. woaw! pizza. pizza.

what if we made more pizzas.we could make a pizza for everyone. everyone could knpow of our pizzas. everyone could be just as happy as us. isnt that great? isnt that amazing? we could all pizzas. we could ALL pizzas.

hold on. im calling the bros. they need to know. they need to pizza. ive got two bros right here ready for a pizza. do you think we can do it. thats double the pizza we’ve already made. it could be tough. i know this is a lot of pressure, and it really means a lot to me, but its ok if you want to back down now. pizza is a lot of work. its hard work. i know it is. you know it now too. but we can pizza. we can pizza together.

•

THANK YOU FOR PIZZA!

:) the bros really enjoyed the pizza. thanks for helping me make pizza very appreciate very cool. pizza. im handing you a pizza coupon right now i am folding it into your hand. what store does it go to? dont worry about that. its just a coupon for pizza, you dont have to worry about the specifics. they’ll know what to do with it.

they’ll know.

:)

[pinencurls]

Kiss In The Kitchen

hiii okay so I have a couple one shots hidden away in drafts that I’m not 100% in love with but i enjoyed writing at the time so I thought I might as well share them :)  Here’s the first...

You couldn’t be prouder of Fine Line and all you want to do is support and congratulate him, even if it means ignoring the insecurities one song strikes in you. 

4k Words 

At first, you listened to it (almost) alone, Harry's large headphones covering your ears as his new album played for you - you'd heard bits and pieces of it over the last year but never every song in it's finalised form. The second time you listened to the album you quickly adored was at its release party; a contrast setting to the quiet of the Saturday sun sneaking into your bedroom with Harry's earnest gaze set on you as you spoil yourself in his words - you could almost forget the album was written entirely about the woman Harry devoted all his love to before you'd met, it felt so private between the two of you. You'd visited the studio several times, lending your own advice when Harry met droughts of no inspiration and begged for your musical experience; You'd been in several small bands in your formative years, playing bass or drums, but had paused that particular pastime to focus on the reality of your career - writing took time in this industry, supporting yourself whilst avoiding the well of tabloid work was tricky, so far you'd managed to find little nuggets of gold in genuine, thought-provoking magazines and had begun to make a name for yourself, something you'd doubted possible in the harder of times.

You'd chosen to keep your lyrical advice to yourself when Harry called to you for help, however. You knew who this album was about, it was clear it wasn't you and that was fine. You didn't expect Harry to dedicate a whole album about you after 11 months together, all of which dating after he began writing it.

In private, sat on your bed and grinning up at him as his music played to you and you only - you were proud. You'd accepted the difficulties that might come with listening to your partner's rawest emotions for a past lover and had come to the conclusion that you'd appreciate his work simply because of how much he'd put into it and how well it'd all come together.

That was easy in private. It's slightly harder to remind yourself to separate the songs playing loudly all around you in the busy L.A club from all the not so hidden meanings behind them. Everyone Harry had met within the last few years of his solo career and long before that had come to celebrate with him. Busting bodies filled the large room, many already taking advantage of the bar. Almost everyone found themselves, slightly slurring, by Harry's side at one point of the night to tell him how beautiful Fine Line was, and the topics of each song didn't seem to go unnoticed either.

As you made your own rounds, you overheard the loud discussions about the mix of provocative, solemn and affectionate themes. Some of the group were apparently too drunk to see Harry's current girlfriend standing by as they cheered on his yearning and passion for his previous one.

It only got worse with press. You were still unbelievably proud of course, but Harry had to do a lot of press. Each interviewer cut straight to the elephant in the album. Camille was discussed, if not named by Harry, at length. You adored hearing Harry speak about his own personal growth and becoming comfortable in himself - but for every question about identity and fashion, came three about the clear sexual undertones and soulmate ideologies.

You were rational in your discomfort. You listened to Adore You and your other stand out favourites when you wrote, you understood and trusted that Harry had moved on, you'd been together for almost a year and he's told you weeks before then when you were just new friends that he knew he was ready again after months of working on himself.

You just couldn't deal with one song.

Breaking up and having sex you could deal with, you could enjoy the final work. They were normal things that people went through and wrote about. But the first sign of love? The sweet, endearing start of a relationship that he was so clearly ardent about - as if his feeling were a lot fresher than you'd imagine for a relationship that started and ended months ago.

Sunflower Vol.6 was beautiful, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't just see it objectively. You felt it so concentrated, and it hurt like fucking hell.

- - -

"Do we have any mango?" Harry calls from the kitchen, the click of the fridge opening quietly behind him. "Never mind found it!"

You smile at his domestic charm as you work on you most recent piece; it's been taking up a lot of time, creeping into your weekend which hadn't gone unnoticed by Harry as he had returned from the morning run you usually went on as a couple. A few moments later, after the loud whirring of the blender stopped, a pinky-orange smoothie is placed beside you and kiss pressed to the side of your head.

"When're you gon'a be done?" He murmurs against your ear, curls flopping down onto your own.

He's just finished his last week of press, ending with Howard Stern who seemed eager to remind Harry, constantly, of all the women he could have. You weren't particularly public yet so you couldn't really blame him for assuming Harry would be starting a new relationship soon. It just added to the frustration you'd been careful not to disclose over the long period of promo for the album.

"I wanna finish this today so we're both free after we fly back, I'jus need a little time alone, yeah?" A low grumble and a "yeah" was the only response he gave and he removes himself to the other side of the big living room to lay down on the sofa and slurp his breakfast.

Your deadline is Monday but tomorrow morning you're flying back to London and driving up to Holmes Chapel to spend time with Harry's family before he was away on tour for months so you were eager to be free from work.

Hours tick by, you're stuck in the spiral of the final edit. There were a few words that you couldn't quite tweak how you wanted them, as always. You got up to make lunch.

As you pass through the living room you expect to see Harry's body sprawled across the sofa napping, but only a bundle of throw blankets lay where he had been. His journal sits abandoned on the side table, propped open by a loose pen. You can see the scribbling of new song ideas and the beginnings of a poem, smiling to yourself you walk through to the kitchen - still no Harry.

Humming to yourself you open the fridge door, moving your hips slightly as you retrieve all the ingredients of a sandwich for you and Harry. Domestic moments like these were hard to come by in the midst of album releases and pre-tour prep, but you're looking forwards to the month ahead of you. No doubt you'll need some alone time after a week at his mother's house so you're being careful not to take any assignments for the rest of the month to make room for as many simple moments like this as possible once you're back in your London home.

Over the rustle of the bread packet and the crunch the lettuce made as you slice it, you can hear Harry's voice approaching from down the hall.

"Well thanks, mate-yeah..yeah we've gotta get drinks sometime it's been too long." He has the smile on his face that tells you it was another old friend calling to congratulate him on his album, probably a fellow musician from the early days.

Harry makes his way to your side, watching as you layer food into your sandwiches and steals a shred of lettuce. You can hear the other voice now - a clear English drawl you recognise as Ed. You've met a couple times and he's one of the most genuine men you've met, you much prefer him over some of the industry people Harry has to mingle with.

"Oh, dude and the mushrooms!" You giggle as you hear Ed laugh down the line at Harry. "I can't say I didn't guess something was up."

"Thanks, man - like what?" Harry chuckles back, sneaking more sandwich scraps as you slice a knife through them and dish them up.

"Um, the whole end of sunflower - are you really gonna do that live?" At the mention of the song, you feel your shoulders tense slightly. You're really trying to be a good girlfriend and support Harry - but that song just hits different, you trust Harry's love but you can't help but wonder if he has any feelings left over for Camille...

"If I have to!" Harry continues to joke, not noticing your discomfort or at least not mentioning it."Look, Ed, I gotta go but it was great talking to you"...

Harry's voice drones into the background as you take your plate and make your way back to your laptop, huffing as you're reminded of your own frustrations with yourself; he told you months ago that he's moved on, why can't you just believe him?

You can hear a quiet goodbye from Harry as he sets his phone down on the sofa and sits across from you at the table. Your laptop is still acting as a barrier between the two of you. You type at the keys, trying to look busy as you write and rewrite the same line over and over, sighing - you save and close the file and set your laptop aside.

"Not going how you want?" Harry asks.

"No, it is just...there's a bit I can't get to work. I just want to get this over with already." Harry thinks about what you've said for a moment before getting up and leaving the room - he comes back a moment later, setting a glass of water bedside your lunch and kissing your temple.

"Take a break love, you've been working all week you deserve it." He hums against your hair. "And thank you for lunch."

He's so sweet and chipper, smiling at you as he takes his plate out to the kitchen and returns to perch across the table from you, hand wavering over his journal as you finish your lunch.

He worries about you a lot. Normally over you working too much and not taking time for yourself or the amount of pressure, you put on yourself being overwhelming. It was in his nature to worry you remind yourself, you're trying hard to push past the hurt you can't quite let go of and the last thing you'd ever want was for him to feel bad about what he'd written so you'd managed to keep it under wraps. There was no need for him to be suspicious.

- - -

Your alarm goes off at 5am. Your flight is in 3 hours.

"Turn it off." You grumble, burying your head deeper into your pillow. The mattress dips underneath you when Harry turns, the duvet shifts as he slips his hand under and wraps his arms around you. "S'too early."

"I know." You love how Harry's voice sounds in the morning - rough with a soft edge. It's one of the first things you fell in love with; the extra degree or two the morning adds to his embrace, he's always quick to loop his arms around your middle if they've come undone in the night. His untamed and often tangled curls bristle against the back of your neck and there'll be a few moments of warm even breaths against your ear before he bounces up. He's very much a morning person.

"I'm getting in the shower y/n, I'll be out in a sec - get up yeah?" You mumble a slightly coherent response as he leaves the room, a towel draped over his bare shoulder.

Following a few moments of deliberation, you sit up. Unplugging your phone from where it lay on your bedside table, you check your notifications. Sure you'll be up in time, you open twitter.

Unsurprisingly, nothing much is happening. You scroll through a few messages from the day before until you come across a video of Harry being interviewed, he's wearing the thick red cardigan he recently bought so it must've been from this week.

You click play to see him smiling tiredly at the interviewer - you remember this day, you'd stayed up later than planned watching old toy story reruns then he'd been running around frantically getting ready the next morning. You lazily watch him answer a few frequently repeated questions until he's asked about the stages of romantic relationships that inspired certain songs. You expect the usual questions about songs like Adore You and Watermelon Sugar but instead, the interviewer takes a turn and seemingly voices all the concerns floating around your head;

"And one of my personal favourites: Sunflower vol.6, really captures the first realisation of love in a relationship, what lead you to write that song in particular, did you write from experience?"

"Thank you, yeah..I think that first really overpowering part of a relationship when two people are just starting to have these intimate, lovestruck moments together stuck with me and I-" You turn your phone off sharply. Your mind is spiralling with insecurities enough on its own without Harry himself describing how he first felt about his ex-girlfriend.

You sit against the headboard, mulling over the topic that has clouded your mind the past few days. You don't hear the shower turn off down the hall as you let out an angry grumble - it feels so shit and mean of you to be this way and you just want the clarity you had before this all happened.

"What's wrong love?" You look up to see Harry standing at the end of the bed. His hair is dripping onto his shoulders and he's wrapped a light pink towel around his waist loosely, concern contoured his face as he peers down at your huddled form.

"Jus' tired." You crawl forwards to climb out of bed, kissing Harry's cheek lightly as he stood unconvinced before heading to your wardrobe. "Honestly, I'm good."

"Okay..what's the time?"

"Uhhum-" You mutter as you riffle through a pile of sweaters. "5.30ish I think..check my phone"

You slip on a comfy pair of jeans and socks before you walk into the hall on your way to make you both coffee, there's a long pause from the bedroom before Harry calls down to you - 5.42am.

- - -

By the time the plane takes off, you're almost asleep again.

- - -

It's 7pm LA time when you step out the taxi delivering you home to your London house. It's almost 2 am here so despite your lack of tiredness you shuffle through the door behind Harry.

All your heavy luggage is left in the entryway as you climb the stairs up to your bedroom, eager to be done with jet lag and normal again by the morning.

You've made the mistake of sleeping the first 3 hours of the flight and now find yourself wide awake under the soft covers of you and Harry's bed. He always falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, and with how quiet he's been all day you assume he's already tired. Between your early napping and him being engrossed in the book he was currently reading - there hadn't been much conversation between you on the flight over. As you snuggle further into the covers you realise things have been a little different these past few days, maybe being so caught up in your own head with work and worries of your own you haven't noticed but there's definitely been a...distance. You're just not sure which of it is creating it.

The next morning you wake to the radio playing from a few rooms away. Sitting up you look around the room; your suitcases are still downstairs by the look of it and Harry's side of the bed has been slept in and now deserted.

"Harry?" You call out. There's some kind of foggy sadness seeping around you as you hear no reply. Maybe you're just tired but you feel you might start sobbing any minute - it's a desperate feeling that you're not quite sure how to quench.

"Harry.." You call again as you climb out the bed, slipping a large jumper on over your head, pulling the braids you'd plaited for the flight that had come undone and frizzy with sleep, over your shoulders. "Love?"

There's still no response and you're now on the final step of the long staircase. You walk quickly through the house towards a quiet humming you can just about make out. You must have gathered speed in your anxious mission to find Harry because as you enter the kitchen you slam hard into the doorway as you reach out to balance yourself.

The movement in his peripheral makes Harry turn his head, slipping the bulky headphones off his ears and slipping his phone into his pocket. He'd previously been slumped against the kitchen counter, lost in thought as he skimmed through his phone, forgetting the kettle as it boiled beside him.

"Love- oh, careful." He chuckles slightly before he takes in your expression. You must have started crying by now because he rushes quickly towards you. "Woah- woah what's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"

The arm that had taken the full brunt of the doorway was now being carefully examined by Harry as his eyes scan you, searching for any harm. His hand comes to wipe at the few glossy tears on your cheek before he gently asks his question again.

"No I-I was calling for you..." You reply, equally confused as him by the whole situation.

"I didn't hear you love I'm sorry, what happened?" He's placed your arm back by your side now although his hands lingers around yours.

"...Nothing."

"Y/n, please just tell me. What's wrong?" He persists.

"No, I mean - nothing happened I just..." You mumble, how were you supposed to explain that when you woke up you felt terrifyingly alone and just needed to find him...to remind yourself that everything you'd let conspire in your head wasn't really happening.

"Y/n, I know something's up..the last week has been really busy I know but if something's wrong please just tell me, okay?" You think about it for a second before blurting out-

"Would you tell me if you still loved her?"

This doesn't seem to be at he was expecting, or you for that matter. The situation was uncomfortable - hearing your boyfriend sing about how intensely he loved Camille and how badly losing her broke him, but it was just music. You don't realise until you ask him the awkward question, just how much it had been bothering, or scaring you.

"What?"

"I just mean...Okay shit I don't mean that at all I'm just tired and I woke up and you weren't there and I just needed to find you I-"

"Is this what's been upsetting you?" His words aren't spoken forcefully, more...sadly. "T-this is what the phone call and the yesterday morning and...oh God the whole fucking flight! That's what you were thinking?"

"What phone call, what do you mean?" You don't know if he's angry at you or not, his hands are in his hair and he's got the mad look in his eyes that tells you he's either about to shout or cry.

"With Ed. As soon as he mentioned the album you left the room and, and! Yesterday, you were angry about something and then I checked the time and your phone opened on some video about the album and come on...you can't say everything was okay on the flight...we barely talked...we've barely talked at all this week." You're decided that the crying is a lot worse than the shouting. There's something cathartic that comes from shouting back at someone who's just as angry as you - but crying back at someone who's just as confused and upset? It makes you feel all twisted and uncomfortable.

"No..no Harry that's not it-"

"Y/n don't lie I-"

"It's not. I love your album and I'm so, so proud of you, and of everything you did to make it and I understand the importance of your relationship with Camille," Harry's huffing now, his fingers are tangled further in his hair and he's leaned up against the door frame close opposite you. "-This album is all about that time in your life and that's fine...Harry I love it, honestly, the album isn't anything to do with anything-"

"You just asked me if I still loved her!" He exclaims, staring wide-eyed back at you. "I don't give a shit about the album right now, you can hate it, okay? That's okay? But you asked me if I still love her...Y/n look at me."

Your eyes, tightly fixed on the kitchen tiles, tilt up to see his face. His eyes are red and splotchy and his hands reach out to hold you as he speaks again.

"I don't love her, I haven't in a long, long time. I had the ideas for all the songs about her before I even met you, you okay..you're the person I love and...I thought you knew that?" He sighs, hesitant before he starts again. "I thought you trusted me."

There's another pause between you as you mull your next thoughts over.

"I do."

He shakes his head, teary and angry.

"No you don't, if you did you wouldn't have asked-"

"It's just that fucking song!" You snap, you take a sharp breath in and swallow the lump in your throat - "I know that you don't love her, I know it but, when I listen to you sing - and talk, telling people about this wonderful honeymoon romance that even after years you remember so vividly and, and that means so much to you,I..."

"Track 9?" Harry questions, seemingly understanding everything you've just rambled. "Sun- oh baby no it's not..."

"I'm sorry I...It's a great song I just, whenever I hear it I'm reminded of how much you must have felt for her and, and remembered all this time to write about...what?" Harry's smiling now, he seems to be relived for some reason. His eyes are brighter, clearing slightly and he chuckles slightly.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry lovie I should have told you.." He scrambles. "I, I was embarrassed when I wrote it because we'd only just started dating and then you heard it a couple weeks later and it was too soon to tell you and then I just...didn't. I thought maybe you'd figured it out."

"What do you mean?"

"It's about...us."

"You told me you didn't write any about me though..."

"No, I said I hadn't written any you were going to see anytime soon...and that was, awhile ago." He smiles slightly, squeezing your hand in his. "There's another one about you actually too,"

"Harry you, you wrote it about us.." Harry hums a confirmation, bowing his head to press a kiss to your cheek. "I thought...what else did you write!"

Harry laughs now, catching your lips with his as you both feel each other relax - the tension and discomfort seeping away as you realise the reality of everything you'd worried yourself over in the last week.

You pull away, one hand on his chest and the other fiddling with the curls at the back of his head.

"Seriously what else did you write-"

"I'm not telling." He beams, leaning down against the firm push you send to his chest.

"I swear if you wrote a song about our sex life I-"

"Shhhh!" He presses a mocking finger to your lips to quiet you. "We better be going, don't wanna be late."

With that, he leaves the kitchen, you can hear his heavy steps rushing up the stairs and soon the house is quiet and the air around you is settled again.

There's a subtle hum of the shower upstairs that intrudes but nonetheless, the clarity's back.

[beetlebitchywitch]

I really love when you write Dewey, that birthday fic was soooo cute, do you think you'd be down to write more Dewey fluff? Or even hurt/comfort? Just, whatever you want with him, he's perfect and I love him

This sounds awesome! Thanks to @go-commander-kim for kinda getting the whole “Just Friends” trope stuck in my head because here we are. Some angst to fluff Dewey x Fem!Reader for your reading pleasure!

If anyone asked you why you decided to live with Dewey Finn, you would simply ask why you wouldn’t want to live with your best friend. You’d known one another practically since diapers, having sworn an oath on the kindergarten playground to be friends for life, and somehow, you’d managed to make it work. You were both in your late 20’s now, and you were still going strong, so when you both were looking for roommates, it simply seemed to make sense. 

The fact that you got to get a good view of him shirtless now and again was simply the icing on the cake. 

God. Shut the fuck up, you thought to yourself, shaking your head to rid yourself of that thought as you prepared the two of you breakfast. But still, the image persisted, Dewey with his perfectly squishy belly and his chest hair and his hips-

“Y/N, the pancakes are burning!” 

Fuck, he was right, in your reverie you were blissfully unaware of the two pancakes you had on the griddle slowly turning black and sending acrid smoke dancing through the air. You swore under your breath and pulled them off, discarding them both and pouring two new ones to take their place.

“Sorry, Dew, just got a little distracted…” You turned around mid-sentence to shoot him a smile and instead quickly fell silent because Jesus Christ, your daydream was real. Dewey was lounging by the counter with a mug of coffee in had clad only in a pair of pajama pants hanging loosely around his hips that exposed that fucking delicious little happy trail-

You quickly turned back around, eyes scrunched shut as you tried to forget that the guy you’ve practically been in love with for years was standing behind you with no fucking shirt like it was just a thing to do. Love...God, you hated to admit it, but you were absolutely gone for this man, and there was no use denying it, not when everything from his hair, to his voice, to the way he snored made you swoon. But he was your best friend, he’d always been your best friend, and there was no way in hell you’d ruin nearly 20 years of friendship just because your heart fluttered when he was around. Why did you decide to live with Dewey Finn? Because you were a masochist who enjoyed teasing herself with a guy you could never have. 

“Those smell fucking awesome,” Dewey groaned, rifling throug the pantry for a bottle of syrup. “Let it be known that Saturday morning breakfast is an awesome tradition and if I ever say otherwise, assume I’ve gone crazy.” 

“Crazier than you already are? Impossible,” you joked, hip checking his playfully before flipping the pancakes- these ones, thankfully, were golden brown and gorgeous. Dewey ignored your little quip in favor of setting the table, and by the time you walked over with the full stack of pancakes, he was seated with a hungry look on his face, silverware clutched in both fists. 

“Oh yeah, that’s it, come to Daddy,” he crooned, grabbing pancakes from the top of the stack before you’d even managed to set the plate down. You held back a whimper hearing him call himself that, pushing it down with a grimace and joining him in stacking pancakes onto your plate. He groaned loudly, his mouth so full that his cheeks puffed out and syrup dripped from his lips. “Jesus Christ, these are good.” 

“They’re from a fucking box, Dew, it’s not like we’re having brunch at The Four Seasons,” you said with a playful eyeroll, trying to ignore how badly you wanted to lick up that little bit of maple syrup clinging to his lower lip, God, could this get any worse? “You’re on omelette duty next Saturday, alright? I want that mushroom and swiss one that you make.” 

“Anything for you, Shortstack,” he said with a wink. God, that stupid fucking childhood nickname. It used to annoy you, since Dewey had been taller than you your whole life and never ceased to make fun of you for having to look up at him when you spoke, but now, every time he used it, it was with a warm affection in his voice and his eyes that made it damn near impossible not to swoon. You cleared your throat and sent him a withering stare, trying to hide how your insides had melted from one simple word. 

“Bite me, Dewdrop,” you grumbled, your stomach swirling with warmth when he beamed at the sound of his own nickname, his eyes crinkled so adorably that you couldn’t help but smile around a mouthful of pancake. God, this fucking idiot. “What are we thinking tonight, another horror movie marathon? I’ve got some real shitty ones we could make fun of!” 

“As fun as that sounds, I can’t,” Dewey said, a soft pink blush crawling its way onto his cheeks. “I...I kinda have a date tonight.” 

Date. 

Date. 

Just hearing the world felt like icicles stabbing at your gut, and as it reverberated in your mind, the pain only grew. Dewey had a date?

“Wow! With who?” you asked cheerily, putting on as brave a face as you could the second you saw that happily little smile blossom across his face. 

“Her name’s Amy. I met her at last week’s gig and we just kinda hit it off, I guess. We’re going out tonight for a few drinks,” he said excitedly, blushing profusely seemingly thinking about her. You could feel tears clawing at your eyes, your throat tightening as the thought of him with his arms around some faceless girl assaulted your mind. You couldn’t help but imagine him holding her close, kissing her, whispering little sweet words into her ear while she giggled like a fucking schoolgirl; it made you sick to your stomach, the stack of pancakes in front of you suddenly seemingly utterly unappetizing as you maintained your bright smile, hoping it didn’t look forced. You wanted to be happy for him. You needed to be happy for him, because you’d be a shitty fucking friend if you weren’t, and you refused to lose the guy who’d been there for you since fucking kindergarten, no matter how badly you wished it was you putting that giddy little smile on his face. 

“Well hey, congrats buddy!” you choked out, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “Let me know if you need help getting ready, alright? I, uh, I think I’m gonna go clean up.” 

“Yeah, alright. Wait, you barely touched your breakfast, are you ok?” he asked, looking so concerned that it practically punched you in the gut because you knew you couldn’t be honest with him. 

“Yeah, I’m just less hungry than I thought. You finish your plate, I’ll just be doing the dishes.” And with a half-smile and a little nod, you retreated as quickly as you could to the kitchen, finally letting the tears fall silently as you leaned over the sink, your hands trembling as you braced yourself against the counter. You should’ve fucking known this would happen. Dewey was a great guy, an attractive guy, and you knew someone else would come knocking one day, someone who would make him blush and giggle and swoon the way you did whenever he so much as breathed. You’d tried to deny it, tried not to think about it, tried to forget that other people existed that Dewey might just be interested in, but now the day had come where you finally had to face the music. Sure, maybe this girl wouldn’t last. Maybe they’d date for a few months, break up, and you’d be left dealing with the aftermath of a sobbing Dewey surrounded by snotty tissues and self-loathing. But there’d be another girl after that, and maybe one more after that, and all the while you’d have to sit back and smile and support him as if the sight of him loving someone else wasn’t slowly eating you away from the inside out. But you were a good friend, you were a good friend, and you’d never let your feelings keep you from being there for Dewey, from cheering him on in everything he did. You’d walk him down the fucking aisle and give him away to someone else if you had to, because that’s how much you loved him. Your love wasn’t selfish; it never was, and it never would be. 

So, you dried your tears, steeled your nerves, and began doing the dishes, shutting your brain off in favor of mindlessly completing your task. You heard Dewey get up from the table and likely wander off back to his room, but you paid him no mind and finished cleaning up the remnants of your breakfast. When you were done, you retreated to your room, locking the door behind you and curling back up in your unmade bed, wishing you could fall back asleep and redo the day. You’d stayed there for hours, hair undone and still in your pajamas as you drifted in and out of sleep, fitfully tossing and turning as you tried to forget what was inevitably coming. By dinner time, you finally gave up on your pity party and got dressed in a soft pair of jeans and a t-shirt, throwing your hair up in a bun and venturing out in the living room. But when you saw Dewey...you froze.

He was perfect. Decked out in his favorite band t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and dark jeans, he looked fucking incredible. It wasn’t the fanciest get-up, but for a night out drinking, it was absolutely perfect, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. 

“Wow,” you breathed softly, suddenly feeling incredibly underdressed in your ratty t-shirt and ripped up jeans. Dewey turned at the sound of you, smiling nervously and straightening out his jacket as he faced you. 

“Yeah? Do you think it looks good?” he asked, brushing himself off and looking at you anxiously. You gulped and smiled, nodding despite feeling like there was a heavy rock in the pit of your stomach. 

“You look great, Dewdrop,” you said honestly, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and hold him, but holding yourself back for your own sake. “When are you meeting her?”

He checked his watch and balked, quickly rushing to the couch to throw on his favorite pair of worn black boots.

“I should actually get going now. Don’t wait up, alright?” And with a quick wink, he was out the door, leaving you completely alone. You stood silently for a moment, letting the reality of the situation wash over you. That was when the tears came, just silently dripping down your cheeks as you moved to curl up on the couch, swaddling yourself in a blanket and letting yourself cry. 

For the next three hours, you’d think about him, what they were doing, what they weren’t doing, wondering if he’d go home with her...what if he brought her back here? You couldn’t bear the thought of Dewey stumbling back into your apartment with a giggling girl in his arms, kissing down his neck, dragging him to his bedroom...you shook the thoughts from your head, wiping your tears away each time they came. You hated yourself for this, for throwing yourself a fucking pity party on the couch while Dewey was out with God knows who probably having the time of his life. You felt pathetic compared to him, and you knew that if he could see you now, he’d probably think so too...no, that was a lie. Dewey would never think that way about you, which somehow made it worse. Fuck him and how fucking good he was- if he wasn’t such an awesome guy, you wouldn’t be in this fucking mess! Before you could let yourself spiral any further, the front door suddenly swung open, startling you out of your own head. There was Dewey, looking slightly put off without a girl in sight. Ugh, thank God. You let out an internal sigh of relief and put a smile on your face.

“You’re back earlier than I thought,” you greeted him. 

“Sadly,” he grumbled, running his fingers frustratingly through his hair. “That date was a mess.”

God, you didn’t want to be happy about this. You did not want to be happy about this. But you were, you simply couldn’t stop yourself from feeling so utterly relieved that Dewey’s date was a total bust. 

“Yikes. Come here, tell me all about it.” You patted the seat next to you on the couch, which Dewey gratefully took. The scent of cigarettes and beer hit your nose, not altogether unpleasant when mixed with his cologne. “So. What happened?”

“God, nothing. That was the problem,” he groaned, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. “We didn’t jive well at all. She didn’t seem weird when we first met, but like...ok, I tried to get her to do karaoke with me, but she totally blew it off like it was a dumb idea. I even wanted to do Don’t Stop Believin’, but she acted totally stuck-up, like karaoke was beneath her. And so then I tried to order her a drink, just a Long Island Iced Tea, and she fucking turns her nose up at it like it’s garbage! And you’re not going to believe this- she didn’t even want wings. 10 wings, half buffalo, half soy garlic, and she doesn’t touch a single one. I mean, who goes to a bar and doesn’t order wings? I swear, I thought we were gonna hit it off great, but she just...I don’t know, she just didn’t seem to want to have fun, y’know?” 

You wanted to feel bad for him. Really, you did, she sounded like a total drag. But you couldn’t stop the wheels from turning in her mind as you went over the events of the night, the realization hitting you in the face like a wrecking ball.

Don’t Stop Believin’ was your favorite karaoke song.

A Long Island Iced Tea was your drink order.

10 wings, half buffalo, half soy garlic was your wing order. 

That didn’t mean anything, right? It couldn’t mean anything. Maybe he just liked all of those things too, except no, he always got 15 barbecue wings and a pint of IPA. Maybe Dewey was just used to you liking all those things when you went out for drinks that he just projected onto his date. Or maybe…

“Dewey, did...those are all...Jesus Christ,” you whispered incredulously, running your fingers through your hair as you shook your head. Dewey’s face pinched with confusion, his brows furrowing and wrinkling his forehead as he turned towards you. 

“What? Am I missing something?” he asked, blinking repeatedly as if to try and force himself to figure out what you were thinking. You simply let out a cynical chuckle, standing up from the couch and pacing around the living room, feeling the words you’ve been repressing for years starting to bubble up in your throat. No, hell no. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t fucking do this, not now, not after he literally was just on a date with someone else, but...you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t imagine another night crying on the couch, wondering what Dewey was doing, wishing it was you with him, wondering if it could be you. You needed to be doing anything else, you needed to not think, you just… you needed to go.

“It’s nothing,” you choked out, avoiding any and all eye contact with him because you knew if you took one look at him, you’d be spilling your guts, and God knows you couldn’t handle that right now. You rushed to the front door, throwing on the closest pair of shoes with fumbling hands. “But after hearing all that, a bar sounds really good right now. I’m just gonna head out for a few drinks, ok?”

“Y/N, wait-” but before he could even finish his sentence, you were out the door, the words you desperately wanted to say dying off in a broken sigh as you rushed down the stairs and hit the street, taking the all too familiar route to your favorite little dive bar a few blocks away from your apartment. It smelled of cheap cigarettes, grain alcohol, and loneliness- perfect for a night like tonight. You felt the cracks in your heart only grow with each step away from your apartment, away from Dewey, but you forged on, finally reaching the bar and wandering immediately to the bartop, sitting down towards the end.

“Hey, Y/N, what can I get you?” 

You looked up to thankfully see your favorite bartender, Ellen, wiping down a glass with a friendly smile on her face. You returned it gladly, feeling somewhat comforted by the presence of a familiar face.

“Hey, love. Can I just get my usual, please?” you asked softly, trying to hide the pain in your voice. Ellen, ever the observant one, put down the glass immediately and pointed an accusatory finger at you. 

“I’m throwing in an extra few wings on the house, alright? I don’t know who hurt you, but you know I know how to hide a body.” And with a wink, she was off to mix your drink, leaving you to look out over the bar with a grimace. You saw many of the regular patrons, some giving you friendly waves, while one unfamiliar looking man was up on the stage, belting away to a song you’d never heard of. You wondered if this is where Dewey took his date. You wondered if you were sitting where she sat, except rather than getting to be out with one of the most incredible guys you’d ever known, you were alone, drowning your sorrows with alcohol and cheap bar food. Ellen returned just as the song ended with your glass, the amber liquid looking increasingly enticing the more you thought about the dumb bitch that somehow took Dewey Finn for granted. Taking it thankfully, you lifted it in a silent toast to her poor judgement and took a hearty swig, comforted by the burn of the alcohol down your throat. Now, all you needed was your favorite order of wings and part three of your pity party could truly get underway. After a few minutes of sipping at your drink, you saw Ellen returning with your food and sighed happily, but she stopped short of you, her eyes locked on something behind you. 

“I was wondering when he’d show up,” she said cheerily, finally placing your wings in front of you. “You never come here alone.”

“What are you-?” You turned around to see who she was looking at and your eyes widened to see Dewey standing only a few feet behind you, panting slightly as if he’d run to the bar. “Dewey, what are you doing here?” 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘what am I doing here’?” he asked, immediately sliding onto the barstool next to you. You tensed at the closeness, feeling the soft leather of his jacket rubbing against your arm, but chose to stare down intently at your wings as if looking at him would betray your feelings. “Something’s clearly up, and you ran away. What, was I supposed to just let you come here and shitfaced alone? Ellen, can I have my usual, please?”

“Coming right up,” she said trepidatiously, looking nervously between the two of you before quickly pouring him his favorite beer and setting it down next to him, making a hasty retreat to the other side of the bar. You sighed, grabbing your own drink and taking a long, slow sip. 

“You didn’t have to follow me. I’m fine,” you assured him, the obvious lie tasting bitter in your mouth. Dewey simply sighed, taking a swig of his own drink before setting it down loudly. 

“Look, I’m your best friend,” he began, and if he saw the way you winced when you heard it, he simply moved past it. “I’m not gonna force you to tell me anything, but you literally know all of my secrets, so why are you hiding this from me?” 

“Because this is fucking different,” you hissed, finally giving in and looking him dead in the eye with a withering stare. “This isn’t like knowing that you pissed your pants at your 3rd grade band concert and spent two hours playing the glockenspiel while standing in a puddle. This fucking means something, Dewey, more than you know, so can we please just sit here and drink in silence?” 

He paused. In the 20+ years he’d known you, he’d never seen you so serious, so...angry. You were angry, he could tell, but he didn’t know why, or what he’d done to make you so clearly adverse to letting him in on it. For now, he knew he needed to respect your wishes and simply be there for you, even if he didn’t know why, but it was already starting to eat away at him inside. With a sigh and a nod, he turned to face the bar, taking a hearty swig of his beer as you finally dug into your wings, trying to ignore the fact that Dewey was basically in this exact situation with another girl only a few hours prior. He looked over at you practically devouring your food and smiled fondly, reaching out to try and steal one. You smacked his hand without even thinking, getting a quiet laugh from Dewey that managed to make you snort under your breath. 

“Sorry, sorry, I know how protective you are of your wings,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. Your wings. You stared down at your food and drink and still couldn’t believe that Dewey didn’t see it. Maybe you were blowing it way out of proportion, but…

“They’re my favorite order,” you pointed out firmly, meeting his gaze with a meaningful look. “10 wings, half buffalo, half soy-garlic, and a Long Island Iced Tea. Only thing that’s missing now is to get up there and sing ‘Don't Stop Believin’, right?” 

“Right, yeah,” he said, his voice trailing off. It took a moment of silence, but you finally felt Dewey tense next to you, his eyes squinting as he looked at you, then your order, then back at you. You watched as the realization dawned on his, his eyes widening a little and his hand trembling slightly, looking like he nearly dropped his beer. “Yeah...that’s…” 

“Yeah,” you responded solemnly, turning away to sip at your drink, doing everything you could to avoid eye contact. “I realized it before you did, clearly.”

He was dead silent. You didn’t feel him move an inch next to you, clearly staring down at the bartop trying to put it all together in his mind. 

“So you think I…?”

“Yep.” 

“And I...God, I did,” he sighed, putting his beer down to run his fingers anxiously through his hair. “I wasn’t even thinking.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you retorted, wincing at how rude you sounded. “Sorry, sorry, I just-”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he said, turning to face you. This was it. This was when he let you down gently, this was the night you ruined your friendship. God, you couldn’t fucking believe how stupid you were. You turned on the barstool to face your fate, keeping your eyes trailed on the bartop even as your body turned toward him. “I never wanted to make this awkward.” 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t,” you grumbled, playing anxiously with your own fingers as all the feelings, the hurt, the anxiety, swirled around inside of you like a thunderstorm. “It’s my fault for making such a big deal out of it.” 

“No, I’m sorry I ever made you uncomfortable,” he said firmly. You paused, finally turning to look at him. Uncomfortable? What was he talking about? “I guess...I guess I just ordered for her like she was you because...because I couldn’t stop wishing that it was you.” 

Oh. 

Oh...my God. 

Oh my God.

“D...Dewey-”

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m so sorry it ever even came up,” he rambled on, his eyes alone practically pleading for forgiveness. “God, I can’t believe I was so stupid. Look, this doesn’t have to change anything, ok? I’m still your best friend, right?”

“Dewey Finn…” you trailed off, shaking your head incredulously because oh my God, you could not fucking believe what you were hearing. You could feel joy bubbling up inside of you, replacing the anxious storm with fluttering butterflies because for the first time ever, you felt confident about what to do next. “If you think that this doesn’t have to change anything, you’re dumber than I thought.” 

...Oh God, wait. That came out so wrong. You watched as Dewey’s face fell, his eyes rounded and wide as if someone had just socked him in the gut. Jesus Christ, you just found out that your best friend felt the same way about you and you were already fucking it up. Before you could try and take it back, he was standing up from the stool, downing the rest of his beer and leaving a few bills on the bartop.

 “If that’s what you want,” he murmured brokenly. He turned towards the door, his shoulders sagging as he quickly made his exit. You were frozen for a moment, staring after him uselessly for a solid few seconds before frantically rifling through your purse, throwing cash onto the bartop and rushing after him, finding him only half a block away by the time you made it outside. 

“Dewey, wait!” you shouted, sprinting towards him with all your might. He turned around in surprise, pausing on the sidewalk as you rushed towards him. When you reached him, your desperation had reached a fever pitch and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing Dewey to the nearest wall and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. His eyes were comically wide, his lips smushed against yours almost violently, but he didn’t care, God, he really didn’t care. They quickly slid shut, his arms sliding around your waist and up your back to hold you close, kissing you back with a desperate ferocity. It took you a few moments to realize you were basically making out in the middle of the sidewalk, but you let yourself have it for a few more moments because the man you thought you’d never have suddenly had you in his arms, and you couldn’t help but indulge yourself in him. When you finally pulled away to gauge Dewey’s reaction, he didn’t even open his eyes for a good ten seconds, just basking in the afterglow of the kiss he’d craved for longer than he could remember. When they finally did open, they met yours and immediately crinkled under the force of his megawatt smile. 

“Y/N...you…?”

“Of course I do, dummy,” you chuckled breathlessly, running your fingers through his hair. “Why do you think I was so fucked up over you going on a date? And doing all of my shit with her?” 

“God, she meant nothing to me,” he groaned, his hands pressing firmly on your back and tugging so your bodies were firmly pressed up against one another. “She asked me out and I thought it would finally help me get over you, but all I could do was compare her to you the whole night, and then she hated all the things you love and I just couldn’t stand to be around her. God, Y/N, I just want you-”

He cut himself off with a heady groan as he kissed you again, already addicted to the way your lips felt against his. You whimpered and kissed him back, feeling the joy practically radiating from every pore in your body. He was perfect. This was perfect.

“Take me home, Dewdrop,” you murmured against his lips, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please, let’s just go ho-” 

You yelped as he immediately slid his hand into yours and tugged, pulling you along at the fastest pace possible back to your apartment.

-------------------------

The next time you walked into that bar, it was hand in hand with your boyfriend, a proud smile on his lips because yeah, he got to be the one to have you on his arm. You both took your regular seats at the bar, Dewey’s hand placed firmly on your thigh when Ellen finally approached.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, albeit a bit warily. “You’re certainly looking...chummy.”

“Don’t we always?” you asked innocently, though the playful wink you sent her way told her all she needed to know. She looked between the two of you for a moment before grinning brilliantly, and you and Dewey couldn’t help but share a laugh under your breath. 

“First drinks are on me tonight, alright?” she offered up with a sly grin.

“Come on, El, we couldn’t ask you to do that,” Dewey retorted. You barely paid attention, already melting from the feeling of Dewey’s thumb tracing little circles on your thigh.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Besides, won’t be a loss for me. OI, GREG! You owe me 20 bucks!” And with a wink, she was off to pour your drinks and collect her money. You and Dewey both shared a shocked look, which quickly dissolved into snorting laughter as you threw your head back and laughed unabashedly, feeling so much happier than you’d felt in so long that you couldn’t help but let it out. When you met his gaze again, it was soft, his little smile and honeyed stare practically making you melt because Dewey Finn was giving you the biggest heart eyes you’d ever seen, and it was too much to bear. You sighed shakily and leaned in for a soft kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his plush lips on yours. When he pulled away, it was with a sly grin and a wink.

“How long do you think we’re gonna be here?”

“Mm...an hour.” At that, Dewey slid his hand further up your thigh, his fingertips just barely grazing between your legs. “...O-Ok, maybe only half an hour.”

He chuckled gently and placed a loving kiss on your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he crooned, leaving his hand exactly where it was when your drinks arrived. You ignored the blush so obviously staining your cheeks and took a long swig. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

[inspirationdivine]

Perchance To Dream || Lydia and Jared

Timing: During the POTW Parties: @themidnightfarmer @inspirationdivine Summary: When Jared’s glamour fails, he seeks out a safe place to hide and reflect

He’d never had so much trouble keeping himself in check. Jared was usually very disciplined with his glamour, it was firm even while he was asleep most nights even. But it seemed exhaustion was unlike any other external factor, and he found himself actually having to concentrate hard on keeping his appearance ‘normal’ as he went about his shopping. He was slipping, he felt himself slipping before he caught his reflection in a window as he passed by, he was losing control and his skin was fading out of it’s fake hue. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d lost it, and with how brutal his natural appearance could be, he needed to get home fast. He cursed having walked into town. Of all days to have decided not to have the safety of a closed vehicle. There was a bubbling panic in his stomach as he passed yet another dark window, able to see his eyes shifting from blue to purple. “Fuck.” and he took off running. He didn't think about where he was going, but when he arrived at the gates of Lydia's home he felt saved. He sprint into the gate and around the garden out of sight of any prying eyes. Or he would have had he not been tackled to the ground.

Lydia was completely unaware of the situation happening just outside her garden. She had a backlog of emails as long as her that she was busy with, and a kitten toying with her left hand, keeping her distracted as she tried to type. “Hey! Gentle,” she scolded the tabby cat when she was bitten a little too hard. Just then, O walked in urgently, speaking fast. “We have neutralised a threat in the garden. Tall male individual with grey skin, purple eyes, please advise.” They were watching her carefully, in case she began to panic. Lydia started at the zombie for a long moment, before putting the pieces together. “Oh! That’s Jared! Tell Jeremiah to let him go!” She told O, standing up and picking up Niamh as she followed O out to the garden, where Jeremiah did indeed have Jared in a head lock and pinned to the ground. “It’s alright! He is a friend!”

He was still trying so incredibly hard to get his glamour under check that his skin rippled like an awfully colour blind chameleon. Jared, despite this, sat completely still. He hardly even moved his chest to breathe as he was locked and held into the grass. As soon as he was released however, he rolled backwards and out of the reach of his captor to look up and find Lydia with his eyes. Grass stained and dirty now, but he still managed an exhausted smile when he found her. “I uh...didn’t call again I guess?” he said quietly hoping for a joke but really just regretting forgetting that she might have taken steps far beyond anything he’d known about before the mushrooming had happened. In fact it felt silly now that he had insisted Cap stay with her considering the small animal yawned as he emerged from a hedge to greet him only now. 

“No, you didn’t. Fortunately, I like you anyway,” Lydia laughed, giving him a careful, warm hug, careful to avoid the grass stains as she did so. “It’s good to see you.” Lydia turned to smile at the little distant Raiju that she had grown rather fond of seeing loitering in the corners. Jared had been right, she had appreciated its companionship, and had barely noticed it was there. “Someone, at least, has been anxious for a visit. Why don’t you come inside? It’s been a while, and I’ve missed you. It also looks like your glamour is having some issues.”

Jared accepted the hug with as much enthusiasm as his tired and slightly sore form could muster, he kept the smile on his face just for her as well. The nymph spared the security team a glance and then looked down to offer Cap a scratch behind the ear for all his good work guarding, even if Lydia had much more qualified people on hand now. He was happy to move away from the very intimidating team that were slowly dispersing around them from the threat he’d posed moments ago. He definitely didn’t want to not have Lydia's favour coming over unannounced; he decided in that moment, from now on he’d text (or he’d try to remember to call but there were never any promises). Following her inside he informed her “That’s why I sprinted over, I was planning on coming to visit this week, and then I sort of got trapped and I figured….you were the safest place to go since I was having so much trouble.” He waved a hand however and added “But it’s uh...no big deal I guess...how have you been. Feeling good with all your new security in place?”

“I completely understand. Jared, you are eternally welcome, and I shall ensure that everyone is quite aware of this in the future, regardless of what face you decide to wear next time.” Lydia walked over into her kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink, or to eat?” The busywork of getting out her glasses made it easier to answer the question. The last few days and the blood weighed heavy on her mind. Her back had healed in a week with as many ups as downs. “I adopted a cat! Niamh, who is floating around in the garden somewhere. My wing has healed. Not everything is quite as it should be, but I can hardly complain. Things are good.”

She was so wonderful, Jared was so pleased to have met someone who was so kind to him even when he’d potentially scared her. What with the breaking and entering of her proprietary after she’d had a VERY bad experience and all. “Uh yeah sure I’ll have some water or something.” he smiled, as he listened to her update him on how she was getting on he let the rest of his glamour fall away. Lydia wouldn’t mind, and it’d help him concentrate on her words more than his exhaustion. “You’re all healed up!! I was really hoping for you to recover, I was telling my kids about you the other night. Can’t wait to tell them you’re doing well.” he grinned. He wanted to give her a hug in delight but wasn’t sure the reception he’d get so instead bounced on the balls of his feet. “And a cat is a great companion, Niamh is a great name.” 

Lydia busied herself with picking out a nice crystal glass for him, getting a lemon from the fridge and cutting a slice of lemon to drop in beside the ice before pouring him the water. When she turned back, he looked as he should, beautiful in his abject inhumanity. “You were telling your kids? What, like bedtime stories for the puppy bonedoggles? Jared, you are the most adorable vicious creatures nymph I’ve ever met,” Lydia laughed, enthused by juist his presence. It washed away the blood and guilt on her conscience as she turned to hand him his glass. “She’s wonderful. Not quite as colourful as your kids, but great all the same. So, what’s up with your glamour?”

“They like to hear stories, they respond well to names they can put faces to, so yeah...I told the bonedoggle pups about you last night.” Jared maybe would have been a little defensive if she hadn’t laughed along with her words. Instead he beamed at her. “Not that they’re pups anymore, they’re young but growing fast.” He took the glass and immediately took a long drink. His hand catching the drips that had escaped the edges of his lips before he spoke again. “I’m real tired I guess? Not being doing too well the last few weeks, but it’ll get better. As soon as I can get some good sleep I’m sure it’ll get better… hopefully.”

“That’s… disarmingly cute. If I hadn’t met them, I wouldn’t believe they were even the littlest bit dangerous, you know,” Lydia smiled right back at him. “Really? How big are they now?” He drank so fast Lydia raised her eyebrows, pouring herself a glass of whiskey to go with his glass of water, before turning her attention back to him. “Has something happened?” Lydia asked gently, leading him over to the sitting room couch, so that they could sit side by side, her wings tucked away at her side. “Do you want to talk about it?” He could tell her anything, but Lydia wasn’t about to pry. That said, maybe if he was so tired by it all so much so that he was losing control of his glamour, maybe it was time to start talking about it.

“Oh well they are cute Lydia come on, they’re little faces are to die for….although they’re definitely not as cuddly as normal puppies I’ll give you that.” Jared joked lightly. He gulped down the water and then excitedly put the glass down so that he could hold his hands out to show her how big the pups had gotten. “Almost ready for their second trip for bones.” The words held pride he knew she might not understand, but he felt he could be himself about his kids with her, even if she didn’t fully agree she wouldn’t shoot him down. SItting down heavily on the couch he leaned back and fought off a yawn and the ache in his bones settled in. “Oh I just… didn’t have a very good time with the mushrooms this year, and then...sleepwalking, I can’t seem to get any rest...nightmares you know in amongst it all.” He shrugged at her and smiled despite his words. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out, I have hope at least right? Can’t be bad all the time can it?”

“The first time we met they were going to eat me!” Lydia protested with a laugh, her eyes widening with surprise as he gestured how big they were. “They’ve grown so fast! I assume that’s wonderful news!” Lydia smiled as he lit up with pride, his eyes bright and wonderful. “Sleepwalking? Is that new?” Lydia asked, her brows knitted as he talked. “Do you still feel bad about the human you killed?” Lydia asked softly, without any judgement. He had seemed cut up about it, in the same way Deirdre had been about Emma, in the same way Lydia’s stomach churned when she thought about what had happened a few days ago with Dot.

“They were not!” He protested in return but focused more firmly on the warm feeling in his gut as she enthused with him. It’d been a while since he’d been able to gush about his kids, just through sheer circumstance, and it was refreshing to have someone to allow him to indulge. Jared nodded slowly, he’d been trying to think of Ronald less and less, but it hadn’t been going exactly to plan. “I never meant to see him again, but I guess I fudged the words when I made him promise not to tell anyone. Forgot to add that he shouldn’t come back either… I… I fed him to the kids… I wish… I hadn’t had to and he’d just stayed away from us like I’d hoped. I wasn’t even in the right mind. It was like a bad trip and all of a sudden I was awake and it was all too apparent that I’d done something irreversible you know?” He wasn’t looking for sympathy, he wasn’t even sure if he was making sense. But the nymph knew that Lydia wouldn’t mind, or at least he hoped. She was so wonderful but he’d understand if she didn’t want to hear it all. He looked up at her from where he’d slouched in the cushions, like she’d have the answers, but he knew that was a lot to ask someone. “I’ve always been a bad shot too, the mushrooms gave me focus where I didn’t want it.”

Lydia shifted where she sat so she could touch his shoulder. There wasn’t more she could offer him really, other than the comfort of just being heard. Sometimes, that was enough. Sometimes, it was impossible to help in any other way.  “You did do something irreversible, but so did he,” Lydia began softly, trying to listen carefully. Well, if she had known he fed human corpses to his kids, that would have been useful a couple days ago. Not that that was the point now. “Even if he wasn’t promise bound to stay away, he wasn’t welcome and he knew it. Humans are far from my favourite, but they have basic modicums of intelligence no less than ours. He came irregardless, to take something from you. Or do you think it was something else that brought him there?”

Jared let his head droop to the side and his body lean into her comforting touch. “I don’t really know why he was there, but I can’t imagine it was with good intentions. I know people got all muddled up while they were there, the stray sod got a little bit out of control and all while I wasn’t really focused. But he’d have had to get there first.” he hadn’t really considered Ronalds intent on the farm, he’d been too shaken by having shot him. But now that he thought about it, he’d do anything for his kids...and if Ronald really had come back for them and not just shown up by accident like he’d feared, then he was a little less regretful. “I suppose if it was him or one of my kids I’d glad it was him…” he allows the words to escape his lips and then he grimaces. “Preferably no shots would have been fired while I wasn’t awake but I guess that’ how it was, can’t really do much now you know?” He spared her a pained smile, trying to mask the ill feeling swirling behind his eyes. “I feel like I should feel worse? But also I’m too tired to really think all that deep anyway, sleepwalking takes it outta you apparently.” he chuckled weakly. 

As he leant into her touch, Lydia wrapped her arm around his shoulders sideways. It was hardly the most comfortable of positions considering their egregious height difference, but it was comforting to have him so close. “So he was confused once he was there, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t had nefarious intentions before, whatever that looked like,” Lydia spoke quietly, gently. Clearly, obviously feeding him a biased world view, but sometimes that was what was needed, especially when Jared was so painfully biased against himself. He saw himself as the automatic villain, the cruel creature of the night, who had lost his way on the mushrooms. In Lydia’s humble opinion, it was as if the mushrooms had shown him the way, had made his aim true. The mushrooms had allowed him to react decisively, rather than risking any of Jared’s kids. “No, you can’t do much, but you are still permitted to feel. There is no should when it comes to emotion, only what is.” She gently traced patterns back and forth on his arm. “Sleepwalking? How long has that been going on?”

He felt a little touch deprived at that moment. Jared hadn’t realized how much he’d withdrawn these last few weeks and he hadn’t really felt he would be allowed to reach out considering what he’d done. He’d even stopped himself from giving Lydia a hug earlier. And yet here she was offering him comfort despite what the mushrooms had done to him. He shifted to lean into her, fully letting her ease his mind without question. He wanted to be told he wasn’t terrible, so he was willing to believe her blindly. “Yeah, he couldn’t have shown up by accident.” he decided. “I’m not sure, it could have been going on for ages and I wouldn’t have noticed at first.” he said, “I didn’t realize for far too long that Things had been moved, chores had already been done. But then it got worse, I woke up walking into the lake the other day...that wasn’t so fun. I heard other people are also sleepwalking so… it’s not mushrooms, I thought at first it was but I don’t think it is now.”

He melted into her arms like giraffe shaped putty, and Lydia shifted to accommodate him, so that he had as much space and warmth as he needed. “No, he intended to be there,” Lydia agreed encouragingly, hoping that the guilt would slowly melt away. “He was only human.” She reminded him. But as Jared explained more deeply about his sleepwalking, Lydia’s brows bent in a frown. “You were doing chores in your sleep? That’s almost helpful.” Lydia joked lightly, but she could see that he was entirely shaken by the entire situation, so she held him closer. “Other people? People you know or strangers? That’s… seriously disconcerting. I wish I knew how to help. Do you need anything?”

The nymph stifled a yawn, feeling incredibly safe and warm by Lydia's side, especially with the stress of keeping his glamour steady not buzzing on his skin. “Only human.” Jared repeated back to her, her outlook on species didn’t fully compute with his own ideology, but he supposed if it had to have been anyone, a human like Ron deserved to go the most. “Almost.” he chuckled in agreement. “Except I’d been doing things twice and I don’t really have the cash for extra of anything at the moment. Also the kids didn’t really enjoy whatever they could feel over our connection, got a few bites for being unresponsive.” he waved a hand dismissively at the bites however, he got nibbled all the time it didn’t mean much, he was just more upset that his kids had felt unrest at his state. “A few strangers, but some people I know as well. There doesn’t seem to be a system to it, it’s all just random. Oh god no Lydia it’s okay, it’s just a bit...unsettling I guess? You’re not sleepwalking or anything?”

Only human, Lydia echoed in her mind, because he wasn’t the only one reassuring himself of such things. She pushed that thought aside, unable to bear it right now, not when Jared needed her here. “Oh, Jared, if you ever need money, you need but ask.” She offered gently, but her eyes widened sharply as he described his kids’ reactions. “They bit you? Jared, are you alright?” Sure, he described them as sweet little things, but Lydia remembered the teeth on those Bonedoggles. A nibble was not just a nibble, no matter what Jared said. “That is disturbing,” Lydia agreed softly, making a mental note to ask about it to others, who might know more about dream disturbances. “No, I still haven’t been sleeping too well generally, since the attack, but I haven’t been sleepwalking.” Lydia dropped her cheek against the top of his head, taking his hand with the one not wrapped around his shoulders and squeezing his hand. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you can always ask. I am here for you.” 

“Don’t offer me money. I'm not a very good investment, I don’t tend to ever have enough to pay it back in anywhere near a timely manner.” Jared mumbled in response. He waved a hand, less enthusiastically than before stifling yet another yawn. “They have teeth, anything with teeth can bite, it's normal.” he hummed. At that point his eyes started to close, he was fighting a losing battle. He heard nothing else she’d said, missing her comment of not being able to sleep herself completely. His own selfish exhaustion had decided to flaunt it’s willingness for rest in her face. He’d fallen asleep in her arms.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Lydia replied. “But if you insist-” She looked down at him, and he didn’t look back up at her. His eyelashes were pressed closed, casting spidery shadows on his cheeks. He breathed quietly and slowly. Here, in her arms, he would not wander anywhere. He could rest safely here. His weight too, was the first weight pressing down on her all week that soothed rather than suffocated. Lydia’s eyes stretched to the raiju, lurking in the corner of the room, Cap watching Jared curiously. “Come here then,” she murmured, and the pile of two became three. 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Two bassists in rhythmic love; John Deacon x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay so this was a part of @sohoneyspreadyourwings​‘s Secret Santa giveaway. And SURPRISE @thosequeenboys​ I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA!!!!! It was so nice getting your approval on some aspects of that I added into this. So this fic is a crossover b/t BoRhap and Rocketman since you reader are the bass player to Elton John.

So pairing wise you’ve got John Deacon x reader for romantic

And platonic Elton and Bernie.

I hope you enjoy this you lovely darling and it was great to be your Secret Santa :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@ixchel-9275​

@waddles03​

@platawnic​

@geek-and-proud​

@queendeakyy​

@simonedk​

@kairosfreddie​

@mexifangorl​

____________________________________________________________

“Deacy no!” I shrieked.

“Deacy yes.” He mocked.

“Hehehe Nohohoho……stop!” I tried to get away but there was just no stopping this endless torture.

“You know what’ll make me stop love.” He taunted.

“I can’t…..plehehehase. I love you.”

“Aww and I love you too. But it still won’t get you out from saying what I want you to say.” I shrieked and cried out once more as he moved from tickling my sides to my ribs.

“Okay! OKAY! I GIVE I GIHIHIHIVE!! I’LL SAY IT I’LL SAY IT!” he ceased his tickle torture and I finally confessed what he had wanted me to say before this tickle torture started up. “John Deacon is the handsomest, most talented and funkiest bass player out there. And he’s also a jerk.” I added which made him squeeze my hips but I squealed and pleaded, “Okay, okay! Okay I was joking! I didn’t mean it!”

“That’s what I thought.” He said as his hands left my hips but then came up and cupped my face.  His thumbs gently stroked my cheekbones and he whispered. “How did I ever get so lucky to find someone like you?”

“Believe me, I ask myself that everyday about you Deacy. Guess it was just—fate.”

“I’ll take that.” He said as he leaned down and lovingly and gently captured my lips with his.  I lifted my hands up and stroked through his newly cut short brown hair. I felt his thumbs gently stroke both sides of my cheeks as our kiss continued until the need for air became dire.  “You sure you like the new hair?”

“Yes John. I mean as much as I’ll miss braiding your long, flowing locks, this short hairstyle suits you. But I swear to you, if you ever give yourself a mushroom I will use it as a pillow.” He softly laughed and smiled the adorable million dollar smile that made his eyes cringle at the corners.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He lay down beside me and I placed my hand over his chest and listened to his heartbeat while I felt his arms wrap around me.

Now I know what you all maybe thinking, how in the world did I ever get someone like John Deacon of Queen to be the love of my life? Well that all started a couple years ago at a disco club.

*Valentine’s day, 1974*

It was another day, another day of hell. I mean why must they make a holiday for couples? Just to make those who are single feel bad? I had just gotten done performing alongside a very good friend of mine, I think you all may know him.

“Oi (y/n)! We’re heading down to Ringo’s pub, why don’t you come with us.” The familiar Middlesex accent proclaimed.  I cringed and said.

“Sorry Elton, I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“And just why is that?” the Lincolnshire voice of my other pal Bernie Taupin spoke up as he came around the corner.

“I just—I see no point in going out.”

“Oh c’mon (y/n). I need my bassist with me. Your my wing woman.” Elton said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“You and Bernie will do fine without me. Now go on have fun, don’t let me be your Debbie downer.” I said as I grabbed a bottle of wine from the catering bar.

“No way (y/n). Now look I know how you’ve felt about this holiday but who knows. Maybe you’ll find someone tonight.” Bernie said as he came up and gently ruffled through my hair.

“I doubt it.” I said depressingly.

“Oh c’mon darling you have to come. You’re coming.” Next thing I knew, both boys had me by my arms and they dragged me out of the stadium and out into the world.

Then like any other scenario, even though the boys stayed with me for like the first half hour, I ended up alone at the bar when our manager John Reid came by and Elton went with him.  Bernie then came across a beautiful girl and he went to spend time with her.

I sighed heavily as I fingered my beer glass and decided to just take my leave since the boys were clearly enjoying themselves, plus I was sick of looking at all the couple dance and make out with each other.  As I stood up and turned around, I bumped into someone spilling their drink onto their shirt.

“Shit! I’m so sorry I-I wasn’t paying attention I should’ve looked to see if anyone was coming up from behind me.”

“It’s alright love, really. No harm done.” I looked up and the first thing that caught my eye was this man’s sharp features. His nose to a point but it just suited him, as well as his unique hazel/grey like eyes.  He had long, dark brown hair that came down past his shoulders.

“Are—are you sure? I could get you another drink. Or help you wash off your shirt.”

“It’s fine love, really. I was meaning to throw this old thing out anyways. Really there’s no harm done.”

“Okay well, at least let me buy you a new drink. Please I insist.” I urged my last statement as he went to argue.  He softly smiled and accepted my offer. “What did you have?”

“Just a pint of beer.” I nodded and asked the bartender to get me a pint of beer for the guy and she nodded.

“John Deacon.” He said.  I turned and looked at him questioningly. “My name, I figured you’d like a name of the man you’re paying back with a refill of his own drink.” I awed in understandment and said as I held my hand out.

“(Y/n). Your ‘assailant’ of sorts.” We shook hands with each other and the second our hands touched, I felt this spark.  I know it sounds cliché but it’s true.  As his pint came back, he asked me.

“So what brings you out here tonight?”

“Well—two of my friends thought I could use a night out. Better than spending Valentine’s day alone with a self-pity party for being single.”

“If—you don’t mind me saying I find that hard to believe.”

“What exactly?”

“That a—beautiful woman like yourself could possibly have no Valentine to call her own.” I snickered and said.

“Well believe it pal. And what about you? Won’t your date feel offended with you talking to me?”

“Actually believe it or not, I’m in the same boat as you.” I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Seriously John?”

“Yes. I—don’t have a girlfriend. Just—hadn’t had found the right one yet. Plus with my touring schedule it’s hard to settle down to find one.”

“Touring? Are you in a band?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m the bassist for a group called Queen.”

Oh my god! How could I not recognize him before?! Queen was the second band that Reid was managing. I had both of their records at home and I listen to them almost religiously.

“Wow, Queen ehh? You guys are—phenomenal.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean I don’t mean to sound like a crazed fangirl but it’s just what you four do I’ve—I’ve never heard any other band do such a thing. And I must say your bass playing is probably the best I’ve ever heard. Not even I’ve been able to so such a thing.”

“You play bass?” he asked me.

“Yeah.”

“Do you perform for a band as well?” at that question I knew I was hesitant to answer.  In my past relationships I did mention to my former ex-boyfriends that I was Elton’s bass player and it always ended with two stories.

They were using me to get to Elton, or they just wanted to brag to their friends or former girlfriends that I was a bass player to a famed rockstar.  Treating me like more like a trophy than a human being.

“No, no not really cut out for a band. But I do play bass. Have been since I was 12-13 years old.” Now part of it was true except for the band part.

“Same for me.”

“Really?”

“Really.” We both laughed and just began conversing about our favorite types of music and other things in general like where we grew up, what we studied in University, that type of stuff.

It wasn’t until Elton’s song “Tiny Dancer” came on the speakers and that moment I started feeling a little queasy mixed with heartbreak because I saw as every couple begin to stand up and I saw that it was practically the whole club.

Not a single person was left standing as they started gathering around the dance floor.  I sighed solemnly but that’s when John surprised me by saying.

“I—don’t mean to sound to sudden but uhh…..would you….I mean that is if you’d like. Would you—like to dance? With me?” I looked at him surprised. John Deacon of Queen was asking me to dance? Pinch me I must be dreaming.

“Sure.” We set out drinks down and he held out his hand for mine.  I took his hand and he soon led me to the dance floor.

We stared face to face with each other and our hands stayed entwined with each other’s.  He looked at me asking permission if he could place his arm around my waist.  I nodded and as I felt his hand stroke across my side, shivers ran up my spine and (while I tried to be discreet about it) I felt my breath hitch.

We then began swaying from side to side as the club lights shined a beautiful pink, purple and blue (like how it would be at your senior prom or Valentine’s day dance).

As John and I swayed to the melody of Elton’s piano playing and hearing his enchanting voice go through the speakers, I couldn’t find myself looking away from John’s eyes.  I felt my face burn red, god my—my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest at this rate.

Was—was this what it felt like to fall in love? Like truly in love?

For the rest of the night Deacy and I were quite the dancing pair.  And it turns out he’s got some funky moves in him.  And of course I don’t like to brag but I have been told by some friends of mine that when it comes to dancing, I’ve got a good step or too, I guess that’s why I chose to play the bass, more time for dancing if your focused on the harmony and not melody.

I was currently laughing at some funny story that he had just shared about one of his bandmates.  I don’t really remember what it was cause at this point I was going a bit tipsy from the drinking we had done together.

“God I—I didn’t think I was gonna have a good time tonight but now—since you came John, I—thanks you.”

“I think you mean thank you.” I giggled drunkly and that’s when I heard Bernie’s voice whistle out.

“Oi (n/n)!” Ahh shit. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no Bernie don’t you dare come in now! Or at least let it be just you. “Ahh there you are. We lost you for the night and we—ohhhh I see what this is.” He teased as he spotted John.

God Bernie was such a tease when he was drunk.

“Uhh (y/n) do you know this guy?” asked John.

“Know me? Please she and El—”

“Elena! His girlfriend Elena and I go way back. Yeah this guy is mutual friend of mine. But it seems he’s gone off the deep end so I guess it’s time to take you home lad.”

“But aren’t you gonna introduce me to your…..”

“No its best we get you into bed. Wouldn’t want Elena to skin my head now would we? I’m so sorry John but I think it’s time I head home. I’m glad to have met you.”

“Likewise. I’ll call you next time I’m free.” I smiled and bid him one last goodbye before dragging Bernie away.

“What was all that shit about? I don’t know any Elena’s.”

“I know Bernie Jesus just keep walking. Is Elton still here?”

“No he and Reid slipped out about 2 hours ago.” That’s great. “Now call me crazy, but was that you and John Deacon of Queen there?” he asked as he finally reached outside.  I stopped him and kept him steady.

“Yes. Yes it was him.”

“Oh hohohoho. Bassist on bassist ehh?”

“Shhh! Would you shut up Bernie!” I hissed.

“So—did you tell him we’re technically partners cause of Reid managing both them and you and Elton?” I felt my stomach drop and my mind went fuzzy but I refused to answer him as I went up to the curb to wave us a cabbie. “(Y/n)?”

“Hmm what?”

“You—didn’t tell him did you?” he asked me.

“Yeah no I heard you the first time Bernie.”

“You didn’t. God (n/n) why?” he dragged out the why.

“Because Bernie I……I don’t wanna talk about it okay!” finally a cabbie came and I helped him inside and as I told him the address to our hotel and he took off driving.

When we arrived at our room, since Bernie was too drunk to go to his room, I allowed him to stay in mine since for whatever reason I was given a two bed room when I had asked for just one.

I dropped him on the spare bed and he groaned out.

“Thanks for smothering me. Planning on ridding of me?”

“Please, if I wanted to be rid of yah I could think of worser ways to do it. Now go to sleep yah wally.”

“Not until I know—just why you didn’t tell Deacon the truth of who you really are?” he said as he sat himself up and began fumbling about as he took his shoes off.

“I already told you Bernie I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No, no, no, c’mon.” he sat up and flopped right beside me, sitting rather close to me and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Spill your guts lil’ sis.” The corner of my mouth crooked upwards in a slight smile as he called me that.

“I think you know Bernie, please don’t make me say it.” He then ahhed in understandment.

“Afraid he might turn out like those other bastards?”

“I mean he’s a famous bass player of a growing band yes but—even then what if he……” I trailed off.

“Hey now.” He hugged me close to him and rubbed my back. “I’m sure he won’t be. But if you don’t tell him the truth now, he’ll find out somewhere else, and he’ll feel like he had been used.”

“I know. And I don’t wanna do that to him cause…..I think I—love him.” He mocked a dramatic gasp as he covered his mouth.  I shoved him which made him snicker.

“And I’m happy for you love. Truly I am. So please—consider telling him.”

“I will. Thank you Bernie.”

“You’re my sister (y/n). Always will be.” And with that he passed out on my bed.

I sighed and rolled my eyes.  Why couldn’t he have had enough strength to get back to his bed? But in the end I tucked him into my bed and decided to sleep in the spare bed.  I switched out the light and soon I passed out.

Months after meeting John Deacon, it was just nonstop touring.  Not only with us but Queen was doing their first ever American tour for the first time.  But I took Bernie’s advice and the next time John and I talked with each other, I told him what I really did for a living.

Surprisingly he accepted it like it was a normal thing and said that it was cool to know another bassist in the lime life of the Rock ’n Roll.  We kept in contact whenever we could, writing letters to each other to the occasional phone call or two.

I was practicing some bass riffs while occasionally looking through a Rolling stones magazine reading rubbish reviews of Queen’s music.

“I see that my little bass player is doing her literary stalking of the man of her dreams.” I groaned and said.

“I swear Elton you say that term one more time, I’m gonna pop you off with my bass.” He just grinned that shit-eating grin of his at me before coming up and ruffling my hair while poking my cheek.

“Oh come off it you know you love me too much to do that.”

“Oh bugger off yah rotter!” I snapped.

“Alright Reg stop teasing her.” Bernie said as he came up onto the stage and sat down beside me. “Besides, it’s not her fault that she’s practically head over heels for John Deacon. ‘Oh Deacy I miss you soooooo much. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. Why can’t we be together again?’” he mocked me by speaking in a high pitched voice.

“You both are going to hell.” I laughed sarcastically. They just ended up laughing and that’s when Elton said.

“Well hope you’re ready to give Queen a good show tonight.”

“Wait what you mean?” I asked.

“Oh did I forget to tell you? I’ve invited the lads to the show.”

“You did what?!” I shrieked standing up.

“Oh whoopies.” And with that he walked away. I felt myself tensing up and that’s when Bernie asked me.

“Hey, you okay?”

“That fucking wanker!” I snapped as I raced out and locked myself in my dressing room.  I felt my chest constrict as I felt like I was having a freakin panic attack. I felt myself hyperventilating and tears were forming at the corner of my eyes.

“(Y/n)?” I heard after a knock at my door. “(Y/n) c’mon love. I think you’re overreacting.”

“No! Bernie. You are underreacting. It’s one thing that you both tease me relentlessly about my little crush on Deacy. But now I find out that I’m going to have to perform in front of him. I can’t go out there!”

“Okay, okay. Look I’m sorry we’ve been making fun of you. But you are a kickass bass player that I know John will love to see up there.”

“But what if I mess up on one of the songs? How close are the seats? What if he’s up front? God my wardrobe could be see through with those lights. I’ll freakin flash him if I go out there!”

“You wore that ensemble Elton’s first night at the Troubadour and it was not see through.”

“What is going on here?” Oh shit here we go.

“Mr. Reid I—” I then heard the banging on my door grow louder as Reid’s harsh Scottish tone snarl out.

“Less you want to be replaced because believe me there’s plenty out there, I suggest you put your big girl pants on and stop acting like a little bitch!” Oh hell no he didn’t.  I opened my door and the first thing I did was sucker punch him.

“Never. Ever. Call me a bitch.” I glared at him and picked up my bass once more and walked out of there with the tension in the room still so thick you could cut it with a knife.

As it got closer to concert time, I took a few deep breaths and began jostling around shaking my nerves out.

“Did you serious sucker punch our manager?” asked Elton.

“He called me a bitch.”

“Okay that I can understand. But you better be careful, you know Reid can easily fire you for that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I know cause bassists are easily replaceable. Now can we please just do the show so that way I can humiliate myself in front of Deacy and the rest of Queen already?” I drummed against the neck of my bass before going on stage to join the guitarist Rickey and the drummer Stevie.

Surprisingly the concert had gone very well and by the end of it all, we were all backstage and Bernie hugged me.

“See, didn’t I tell you? You were brilliant out there!”

“Thanks Bernie.”

“So this is the famed bassist that Elton was telling me about.” I turned and low and behold there stood the famed frontman Freddie Mercury, along with Deacy and Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen.

“Not to mention the bassist that our own bass player won’t stop going on about. I swear he must’ve caught flies throughout the entire show, couldn’t keep his mouth shut at all.” Teased Roger which earned him a harsh nudge in the ribs from Deacy.  He came up to me and he said.

“You were phenomenal up there.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. I—I can’t believe I never asked to see you play before.” I lightly blushed at his comment then to try and change the topic before he could even notice, I asked him.

“Where’s Brian? I thought he’d want to see this.”

“He would but—he’s currently at the hospital.”

“What? Why? Is he okay?”

“Well…..while we were touring in America, Brian came down with a bad case of hepatitis.” I gasped.

“Oh my god. Is he gonna—”

“Last we heard they managed to stabilize him. But they’re debating about whether or not they’ll amputate his arm.” I was horrified. Oh my god Brian I—I can’t believe it. No one deserves something like that.

“Do they know what caused it?”

“The bloody doctor in Australia didn’t know the difference between a clean and dirty needle. We’re trying to file a lawsuit against him.”

“And damn right he better fess up. But wait what about the rest of your American tour?”

“It’s cancelled. Mott the Hoople agreed that Brian needed to go home and recover. Elton got us these tickets because he thought it would be a good distraction for us for a bit. We hadn’t stopped worrying about him.”

“I’ll bet. I mean if it were Bernie or Elton in Brian’s shoes I’d be throwing a panicky fit.” I placed a comforting hand on Deacy’s shoulder. “I’ll be keeping him in my thoughts. But I believe he’ll be back on his feet soon.”

“Thanks (y/n). It really means a lot. I—I can’t lose anyone else in my life.” There was this intense look of sadness in his eyes. One part of me felt like asking him what he meant by that exactly but I knew it wasn’t my business, he’ll tell me when he wants to tell me.

“I’m always here for you. Anytime you wanna talk, you know my number. And we share a manager so hopefully Reid’s not too much of an arse about it.” He chuckled, forming that adorable eye crinkle smile of his.

“Here’s hoping. Hey do you—wanna go out for a drink? My treat.”

“No, no, no it’s my treat tonight.”

“But you just got done doing a full 2hr concert, the least I could do is pay for your drinks.”

“Yeah but you paid for my drinks back when we first met. Now it’s my turn.” I stated as I began to walk away with Deacy walking beside me.

It wasn’t until another several months, in fact around Christmas time that I finally got to see Deacy again.  Elton was hosting a Christmas party and he invited the boys of Queen to come.  Of course the only requirement that my dear friend required of all his guests to wear is your most ugliest sweater imaginable.

So I came in with a sweater my nana made for me a couple Christmas’ ago just before I started University.  It was green with a single red stitching pattern along the collar, and sleeves.  At the center was a mama goose wearing a Santa hat and a red ribbon around her neck.

I was currently helping with the catering as I brought I my mum’s special recipe for Christmas pudding.  I had just given a lovely couple some punch (which I’m sure Elton might’ve spiked it with rum or vodka).

“Never did I expect you to be the catering lady.” I looked up and there stood John wearing probably the ugliest sweater I’ve seen all night.

“Oh god!” I tried to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah go ahead laugh, Roger and Brian had a field day with it.” It was a white wool sweater with Santa in his sleigh with his reindeer at the head.  But what got the real kick was that Rudolph’s nose actually blinked and lite up.

“No, no it’s—it’s actually cute.”

“No come on give me your best insult.”

“Deacy I swear. And it’s creative. How did you get the nose to light up?”

“Well it was hard don’t get me wrong but all it took was some small LED lighting, a couple of wires and a long lasting battery. I doubt it’ll catch on though. I seem to be the only one with a light up sweater.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you might start a trend one day.”

“And how about you? Where did you find yours?”

“Oh this old thing’s literally been buried in my closet for years. It was a present from my nan at the start of University. I only wore it when she was around and them immediately took it off.”

“Well—I think it’s cute too.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I love the concept. The Christmas Goose.” We both laughed and I asked him.

“So what can I get you? Fudge? Fruitcake, although I don’t know why someone brought that. No one’s even touched it.”

“Probably for the gag.”

“Possibly.”

“I think I’ll try the pudding.”

“Well you’re in luck cause I made that. My mum’s secret recipe.” I told him as I readied it for him and handed him his plate. He took a spoon and took a taste of the pudding.  I then saw him close his eyes and moan n bliss.

“Oh my god.”

“You like it?”

“Oh it’s heaven. You made this?”

“Yeah. But like I said it’s my mum’s secret recipe.”

“You mind sharing it with me?”

“Absolutely not, then it wouldn’t be a secret recipe anymore.” I sassed.

“Oh come on, I’ve shared with you plenty of secrets. Music wise or personal. The least you can do is share this delicious recipe.” I grinned and that’s when Bernie came in and said.

“Might as well forget it. Elton and I have tried for years to get her to tell us what her mum does in that pudding. Elton claims there’s crack to make it addicting.”

“Which of course there isn’t.” I piped in.

“Well then I’m going to need seconds that’s for sure.” As he took another scoop of pudding.

“Thankfully I made plenty for this party. Every year it seems to be popular.”

“Well I may be your frequent requestor for this pudding.” John said as he began to place other assortments onto his plate. As I gave him some punch I warned him.

“Might wanna be careful with the punch. Pretty sure Elton gave it a kick with something. Just an hour ago I saw a woman literally pass out after having over 7 cups.”

“Well thanks for the warning.” He said as he took a small sip.  Almost immediately scrunching his face. “Oh yeah, I can taste the vodka.”

“At first I thought it was rum. But then again he must’ve put the rum in the eggnog.”

“Maybe. Well I’ll be back soon.”

“Can’t wait.” I said with a shy smile.  As Deacy walked away I heard two loving sighs.

“I swear Melina, no matter how many times I see them talk to each other, it gets cuter every time.” Fawned Elton.

“I can’t agree with you more Sharon.” Fawned Freddie.  I glared at them and flipped the two singers and pianists off but all that did was make them laugh.

Once the party got into full swing with people at different parts of the house playing various games such as “Toss-A-Cross”, “Rock ‘em, Sock ‘em Robots”, “Mouse trap”, and other various board games while Christmas music kept playing in one room.

While in the other room several of us were gathered for a Christmas style game of Musical chairs.  The song choice was Chuck Berry’s “Run Rudolph Run” which was the perfect song choice.  I kept my eyes on everyone and each chair.  Sometimes even stopping before quickly racing forward and finally claim the closest chair I could just as the music stopped.

So far people were dropping like flies until it came down to a few other guests, me, Deacy and Freddie.  Elton was in charge of the vinyl and I swear he was being a little shit right now.  At the point he was only letting the track run for like 3 seconds before lifting the needle off the track.

As each guest lost and another chair was taken away, it all came down to me, Freddie and Deacy.  I eyed the boys competitively and as the music resumed we began walking around the two chairs.  And cheeky Deacy he began to use my own move against me as I would bump into him.

“Move it Deacon!”

“In your dreams (l/n).” He would stay still for another second before moving again.  Suddenly the music stopped and both Deacy and I sat down, the two of us grinning up at Freddie who surprisingly didn’t get offended.

“Alright love birds, the time has come.” Freddie said as he came to collect my chair.

“We aren’t lovebirds!” both Deacy and I snapped in unison.  We looked at each other as the crowd all ooed at us.  Deacy and I turned away blushing and stood face to face of each other over the last remaining chair.

“You’re going down Deacy.” I taunted.

“Please (n/n). I’ve never lost a game of musical chairs. And I don’t plan on starting now.”

“Well I’ve been playing this game when you were still a toddler. I always win at this game.”

“Alright you lovebirds if you wanna make out go outside and do it.” Exclaimed Elton. “Otherwise get ready.” The song started over and Deacy and I stared at each other eye to eye as we both circled around the chair.  The two of us using my method of stopping just to delay the walking before quickly racing behind the other person.

Elton then lifted the needle off the track and all was silent.  We both somehow ended in the chair, but of course we were nudging the other person till I managed to boot him out for two seconds.

“No fair she booted me off. Clearly I sat down first.”

“Oh just take it like a man John Deacon. I beat you fair and square.”

“No because you cheated!”

“You can’t prove it.”

“Yeah? But I can make you confess it.”

“And just how do you intend on—GAHH no! Don’t you dare GAAAHHH!!” I squealed as I felt his fingers beginning to tickle my sides. Then I don’t know how but he somehow switched us so that he was now sitting in the chair and I was on his lap.

“Well it’s clear now. Deacy wins!” Freddie claimed.

“What!? Oh fuck you lot!” I proclaimed.

After all that excitement, I decided to walk out onto Elton’s balcony to get some fresh air from the hot house.

“You’ll catch your death of cold if you stay out here.” I grinned and said.

“Well one can only take so many bodies in one room before it gets too hot for you. Even with this sweater on.” Deacy soon came up and stood beside me.  The two of us stood there close together in silence for a while and he said.

“So you ready to accept that I won?”

“Yes. You John Richard Deacon are the all-time winner of Musical chairs and will always be the reigning champion.” I stated in a sarcastic tone.  He raised his brow at me before looking at me with one of those famed funny looks which made me giggle.

“Now there’s no need to be a sore loser about it.” I stuck my tongue at him before he bopped my nose.  I twitched my nose before turning back towards the city lights.

The silence rang between us once more before we both turned towards each other, our mouths opened like we were both going to say something.  I then laughed awkwardly and he said.

“Were—you going to say something? Please you first.”

“Oh it’s nothing important I just…..it’s crazy to think that it’s been ten months since we’ve met each other.”

“Really? Has it been that short?”

“Yeah. Feels like we’ve known each other for years.”

“Yeah it—it does.” I saw him fiddle with his fingers and then he said. “(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?” I then noticed that his cheeks started to look rosy, and it wasn’t due to the cold.

“Do you—I mean I was thinking uhh, uhh…..” he trailed off before sighing deeply. “You wanna head inside?” Oh. That’s all he wanted to ask me.  He looked like he wanted to say something else.

“Yeah. Sure.” I said solemnly.  We both walked back inside and as I closed the door, I noticed something hanging from the door that I know I didn’t see when I got in here. “Uhh Deacy?” he looked at me and I gestured with my head for him to look up. His eyes followed my direction and there we saw it.

Hanging over the door was a small mistletoe.

“How did that get there?” he asked.

“I think I might know.” I looked over to the door and I saw two heads both black haired and auburn quickly hide back behind the door.  I looked back towards Deacy and I said. “We don’t have to do it you know.”

“Honestly I…..” he began before trailing off shyly again. His eyes lowered down almost in shame like he wanted to tell me something but he was afraid to say it.

“Deacy?” I softly urged him.

“Would it…..be so bad if I did? I mean cause I’ve always…it’s just that I—” he stammered out before sighing again.  That’s when he suddenly leaned in and gently placed his lips over mine.

I felt his chapped lips gently caress mine as he softly kissed me.  But then a split second later, he groaned and pressed the bottom of his palms to his forehead in regret.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. It must be the spiked punch. I’m so sorry (y/n)……” but before he could say anything else, I kissed him back.  I cupped his face in my hands as our lips collided in a more passionate dance.

Oh god why hadn’t I done this earlier? Ever since Valentine’s day I’ve been wanting to kiss this boy and now finally on Christmas Eve I get that chance.  Even though his lips were chapped, they still felt like heaven against mine.

And when I felt his arms wrap around my waist pulling me closer, I knew I had him.

“FUCKING FINALLY! The ship has sailed!” Elton proclaimed so loudly I’m sure people could probably hear from downstairs.

“Oh Sharon it’s beautiful! They’ve finally did it! I knew they would didn’t I tell you!” wept Freddie.

“FYI (n/n) your bedroom is ready for you in case you want to….”

“Oh fuck off you two perverts! Now get out and leave us be!” I proclaimed as I pushed them a few feet from the door before slamming it on them. “God those two are the worst I tell yah.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Leave those two to their own devices and England would fall.”

“More like the entire world would fall.”

“But they are right about one thing.” I felt his arms wrap around from behind me and felt him nuzzle into my neck. “They did manage to bring us together.”

“Yeah you’re right.” He kissed my temple down to my cheek and then he asked me.

“Now did I hear Elton right about him saying you had a bedroom here?”

“Yeah. Whenever Elton and I would do late night rehearsals or I got a little too drunker than him, which is a miracle might I add, he had one of the thousands of spare bedrooms made up for me so I’ve taken claim of it ever since.”

“And just where might the bedroom be?” he asked as his voice got a bit deeper, huskier and I felt him gently nip at my earlobe.  I shivered and I said.

“So we’re really gonna—”

“Only if you want to love. I don’t want to seem like I’m pushing you.” I turned to face him and I said.

“Deacy, to be honest I’ve wanted you since the day we met.” He grinned and pecked my lips once more, this time with a bit more confidence than his last peck.

“Great minds think alike then.” I grinned and took his hand and we raced off towards my bedroom.

The entire night we made love underneath the Christmas moon, memorized each other’s sweet spots and exchanged kisses with each other.

Honestly, that will forever be the greatest Christmas I ever will know.

*Present day*

“I’m so glad we met at that club.” He said as he stroked down my hair.

“Me too. Guess I need to thank Elton and Bernie in our wedding speech for dragging me there.”

“And I’ll need to mention Freddie in mine for that same reason.” He took my left hand which held the diamond engagement ring he had given me earlier this morning.

“I love you my handsome Queen bass player.”

“I love you more, Elton’s first female bassist.” We pecked each other’s lips and continued our cuddle session with my head resting over his heart, my fingers gently tracing patterns over his collarbone and chest while his were stroking through my hair and I felt his other hand rub and stroke down my spine.

[bearpillowmonster]

Mario + Rabbids: Kingdom Battle Review

This game has been out for years now so if you haven't played it, you either don't have a Switch or don't have enough interest in it. So I will try and give you reasons why to play this game and spoil some gameplay details along the way but will save what the bosses are.

This game doesn't appeal to me, "Mario and Rabbids: Battle Kingdom", I mean Rabbids are basically the original Minions. I've heard it called a "Baby's first XCOM" and I, for one, am not about strategy or turn based combat. So, then why is it that when I got my Switch, this was the first thing that came to mind that I wanted to get? 

I haven't played many games on the Switch yet but I can tell that there are games that are best played on the TV, best played on tablet, and best played with the Joycons loose, some fall under all of the above such as Super Mario Odyssey. This falls under the best kind of tablet game, it's like it was meant to be played port-ably and is something you can play a level here and there, casually, or seriously and play a whole chapter's worth.

This is pretty much as clever as it gets, it's no wonder they got Grant Kirkhope to compose it, it has the humor of Banjo Kazooie, it's not even Minions-like humor, it's charming to the max.

There are times where you'll play a stage and just go guns blazing but you need to be careful because sometimes there will be a gauntlet of levels and you will either have to find a mushroom or just go straight to another level before it heals you again. Of course later in the game you can switch up the characters (that have more health) but you shouldn't always assume it as a fail-safe, especially for a boss, so if you're low on health and haven't found a mushroom, change BEFORE you get to the level, that is if you keep your other character's stats and weapons, good and balanced.

Ok, I hear this and that about how everybody loves Rabbid Peach and while her gameplay has a lot of perks, Rabbid Luigi was instantly my favorite and I tried to use him for every battle, I mean he has a Yo-Yo and his hat is on sideways, how can you not love him? I made him a beast with his 'Vampire' ability which allows you to slide into enemies and take some of their health to add it to yours. There is a Fridge boss that it's strongly recommended not to use him but I sure as heck tried. So you will more than likely get attached to a certain character but it's up to you who it will be towards and remember that you might not be able to use them EVERY time. You can choose to have 3 different characters at a time but one of them has to be Mario, he's a default and you can't exchange him. There have been multiple times where all my other characters have died and all I have left is Rabbid Luigi and I pull a clutch with that Vampire ability, making a clean sweep and finishing the level alone, I wasn't really able to do that with any other characters (though I valued Rabbid Luigi more so maybe I didn't try hard enough). And don't worry, even if you don't have a character in your current party, they still obtain skill points for the skill tree so you won't have to grind for a character once you unlock them or anything.

So, how do you make your character stronger if every level is right in front of you and not really an RPG style of sidequests? Well, there are little puzzles you can go around, collect coins, hidden chests, some cannons that you can shoot out of that take you to a Red Coin type level (except blue coins) and you get a new weapon out of it. Also you can go back to worlds you've completed and complete challenges, I usually hate doing stuff like that but it's all good in this game. And it's not required, this game is pretty balanced, it's not too hard but not too easy either, there's no difficulty setting so that's good to hear. Sometimes I would play a boss just to kind of test them out and see what they did and then adjust for my second playthrough for them when I inevitably failed. There are definitely some levels I would spend a few days on, usually those bosses and I would lay in bed thinking of different strategies to beat them, some of those were the most satisfying after beating. Now that may sound like a lot of thinking and seem repetitive but it doesn't force you to come up with a strategy, do you think I actually did stuff intentionally? Not really, I used trial and error and it never even got tired, I usually fail the same level of a game just a few times before putting it down and say "I can't do this." because yeah, I am kind of a baby when it comes to some of these games but I feel accomplished when I beat stuff like this. This is where the 'Baby's first XCOM' comes into play, if you're not into that genre, this is the right game for you but if you are into the genre, you're experienced and it may seem a bit more tame but it's still a good play, Win-Win.

Given that topic, if you feel "too challenged" then it will offer you extra health for a level so it will heal your party up and add some extra, but I like to think of it as the chicken hat in MGS5, only use it if you need it, and even if you do need it, it's not ridiculously easy once you have it. I HAVE failed using the extra health before, sometimes you're just not using the right characters or weapons or need something from the skill tree, it's not a bail out free card, it's just a boost. I've played the ending gauntlet many times and each time it was different, some times I would do great until the third wave, sometimes it's just left up to chance whether your shot hits or not because if they're hiding behind a wall, it may not hit and are you hitting the enemy with the right character? Maybe you need a different order for maximum damage. It's a lot to process but you're not forced to think about it too hard, you have time, that's why it's turn based, I am describing it in a lot of detail but don't think that it's overly complicated or anything, if it was, as I mentioned, I wouldn't play it, it wouldn't seem so darn good of a game to me if it was.

And before you think that enemies get too easy or anything because you just upgraded everyone, they're constantly introducing new ones so it's always even with where you are in the game. Some of these enemies need to be handled differently because of how they attack such as the big ones without guns, they usually have a big stone or log or something and if they get close to you then they'll do a hefty amount of damage so it's always entertaining, keeps you on your toes, and brings me to my next topic.

I suppose it's easy to think that they all just have similar blasters but that's wrong. Most weapons come with a status effect such as honey which prevents them from moving on the next turn, ink which does the opposite and prevents weapons from being used, flame which catches them on fire and and makes them run around until they are extinguished, this ability is especially cool because if they hit another enemy, he will also be on fire, that doubles for you though so be careful with placement. There are also some other abilities but I'll get back to this topic in a minute. Not only are there different variations, which really just fit your preference, but there are also shotgun types which only have a short range but a higher amount of damage, rubber-duck grenades, yes you heard me right, and they're even decorated, there's even a Sam (King)Fisher one from Splinter Cell, not even joking. There are hammers which can get multiple enemies at once if you're within range, and these things that are called sentries but don't shoot anything, they're more like rolling bombs, they can be used to divert an enemy's attention away or can be used similar to a grenade but with more power, and then there are rocket launchers which can fire farther and machine guns which are a bit of an odd ball because you shoot a bunch of weaker bullets vs one big blast but you have more of a chance of hitting due to it's ability to instantly break a wall that an enemy may be hiding behind, leaving them open for the next person. I also wanted to mention that before you attack, aiming at an enemy shows you how much damage you'll do, I guess that's easy to look past or expect but given I haven't played a tactical game of this nature, I want to be thorough.

It tosses it up with a few different types of missions, rather than just walking from area to area to fight the next battle, you actually get some landscape to look at, some puzzles which are actually quite fun, I like a good puzzle and it makes me want to try Captain Toad, but there are also escort missions. Most players dread escort missions in games because they take forever to follow you, this is in a different genre though. It will give you a goal and all you have to do is get that character (most of the time it's Toad) to the goal, sure they can't attack or anything and you have to rely on your other characters to defend but you don't have to defeat all the enemies like most stages, just get to the goal and you control the escort just like you would any other character so they don't drag behind. My only slight complaint with this is that Toad or whoever, isn't be able to use a teammate to bounce like everyone else but it's still fine. Same with the bosses, the only requirement is to just beat the boss, there will be other enemies too though. Before you think you can cheese it that way, most bosses have multiple health bars so you may take out their first form tanking hits with guns blazing but will you have enough to last the second and third form? Probably not so you need to take out those side enemies first because for one, they make it harder, and two, once the second form comes, the boss will bring a second wave of enemies and if you don't have the first wave beat yet then it will stack.

Ok, so easily the best thing about this game is the atmosphere, every little detail feels so good to just walk around in, they didn't have to make the world so good but they did, this accompanied with Grant Kirkhope's music is splendid even the different versions of classic Mario tracks. My favorite one would have to be "Exploring the Mine". With that, the designs for characters, enemies, and such will be added as collectible models throughout the worlds, it's a fun little thing to look for if you're into that sort of thing, I made sure to get a few for the bosses I liked the most. This goes double for the music tracks, you can collect them and go back and play them in the museum. But back to the way it looks, it looks so good that there will be points where Beep-O (who is kind of the guide and serves as a reason this tactical map exists) will have a magnifying glass option and if you press it, he will bring attention to certain landscapes and sights such as a Rabbid in a hot tub burning himself or a Bullet Bill with Underpants on his head, it's all in good fun and really makes you see the vibe they're going for with this fusion between worlds. The landscape for battles includes these pipes that you can travel between to slide kick enemies easier and get a better piece of ground to defend, it's really cool when you get a chain of attacks for example: With Mario, you can stomp on top of enemies, so you slide kick an enemy, bounce off of a teammate to get farther, land by stomping on another enemy then finally make your destination where you want to shoot, so much damage can come from just one turn if you really know what you're doing. And about those effects like flame, there will be different boxes around the stage where if an enemy is stationed behind them and you can't see them good enough to get a hit in, you can fire anyway and hit the box, making the effect hit the enemy so it wasn't a wasted shot and may even make them vulnerable enough for another character to shoot.

Some characters have something like "Hero-Sight" or "Steely-Stare", this is amazing, it's up there with the Vampire ability for me. This comes in handy for those bulkier enemies with the stones and if you have a weapon that has "bounce" it's so freaking satisfying because you can use the ability, fire at the enemy and if they make an attempt to get closer then your character will shoot a few more times.

There is a bit of a problem when you don't properly close the game however because sometimes I would just leave it open on the home screen then shut the console off and come back to it later. Yeah only do that once or twice, don't leave it on standby every time because what will start happening is that the models for some of the items and characters will glitch and turn into blocks, it's not a performance based issue, just visual but it was my fault in the first place for not closing the game for so long so I can't really complain.

There is a bit of DLC that I'm actually considering getting (if it wasn't as much as the base game, crimeny!)because it expands off the story and revolves around Donkey Kong, so that's cool. Speaking of after the game, there is end game content. Throughout you unlock puzzle abilities such as moving crates, picking up totems to put them on pedestals so you can unlock new areas, break blocks, and drill a hole. You can go back to each of the worlds and finish some puzzles you weren't able to before because you didn't have one of those unlocked, if you're going for 100% that is or even if you're just trying to make some extra moolah during the game.

[goddessnemain]

So I Got Drunk...

So I got drunk on Saturday night. It was a buddies' birthday party. We started off at his place- he and his wife made a killer spread of food to munch on before everyone headed out to a local brewery. He had friends come in from out of town, most of them were fairly nice, the women were a little catty, but I’ve come to expect that from city women. Thankfully a couple of our local mutual friends showed up shortly after I did, which helped make me a lot more comfortable instead of being in a house full of people I’d never met with the exception of my buddy and his wife. Nice group of people though. 

Between a couple drinks and a couple shots of mushroom tea, by the time everyone was ready to leave for the local brewery, I was in a good mood. I wasn’t drunk but I was a little tingly and feeling okay. So when they all went to the brewery, I took that opportunity to go home, shower, change my clothes. My roommate was nice enough to give me a ride to the pub so my truck didn’t drink too much and have to have another sleepover. 

The band at the pub was good. Of course, they were good, they play in there every few months, though this time it was only two members of the band and not the full band, they made it work and they were great. 

The night itself in the pub was like most Saturday nights when there's a band. We laughed, we joked, we played pool. We enjoyed the music, and it was fun. I yapped with a couple friends, I yapped a bit with the out of towners, the women pretty much stuck to themselves and made no effort to talk to me. It didn’t bother me, I didn’t want to talk to them anyway. I don’t do snarky, and they were definitely snarky. One of them was a local woman, who, upon learning who I was when we were at the house, became very judgemental. When you live in a small town, people know your name, they recognize your last name, and they make assumptions. It turned out that this woman knows my bro, she taught his son at one point, and the judgment flowed from her in thick waves. She wasn’t very nice to me once she found out who I was and who I’m related too. Jeez lady, I can’t pick who my parents birth, leave your judgments at the door and judge me for who I am and not some preconceived notion.

When the majority of us left the pub just after 1am, we all headed back to the house. One of the out of towners kept putting his arm around me, which I didn't like. I had a couple more drinks at the house, strong drinks. My good buddy mixed them and he mixes drinks two ways: the ‘normal’ way and his way, and his way consists of more than the standard ‘two fingers’ of liquor. I like his drinks more. So, the birthday boy passes out, half the group passes out. Lightweights. A few people from the group had left the pub at midnight headed back to the house. Pitiful. So I wound up drinking with a couple of them out of towners- a couple of the guys, and one of them, to my dismay, was the creeper who kept touching me, my good buddy and his younger brother. Eventually, when some other guy started hitting on me, the creeper sauntered off for a while before coming back. And then he’d saunter off again. My good buddies younger brother tried to convince me to get into the hot tub with him. Sorry man, no bathing suit, no bra, and thong undies mean no hot tub for me. He was pretty insistent but he didn’t get his way. He was saying something about “if you don’t get what I’m trying to tell you by now then you’re not going to get it”. Bud, you were wearing a wedding ring. I may have questionable antics once in a while, but a wedding ring is a gigantic “hands off” red flag, and a line I don’t cross. 

Eventually, it came down to three of us: the creeper, the guy that had been hitting on me, and myself. The creeper was still sauntering off and then coming back, sauntering off and coming back. The other guy was nice. Truth be told, I don’t remember much of what we talked about, but he wasn’t pushy, he wasn’t rude. and was just an enjoyable conversation, huddled around a fire. We chatted about our siblings, he told me about his job, I showed him a video on my phone of one of my kiddo’s accomplishments that I’m really proud of. I only live 3 1/2 blocks and across a highway from my buddies place, so I didn’t have far to walk home. Of course, it had snowed 7 inches in 8 hours and walking in all that fresh, unshoveled snow in my heels was not my idea of a good time, but I made it home. The guy I’d been chatting with had repeatedly tried to insist he walk me home, and after I repeatedly insisted I could make the journey on my own did he finally drop it. I got the vibe he wanted to walk me home to see if once we got here he could come in and ‘warm up’ and that’s why I was so insistent that I could walk my own damn self home. I could have been way wrong, he does have 3 older sisters and it could be just the way he is, but still. Besides, my brain was elsewhere.

And here’s the very dumb thing I did when I was drunk:

If you guessed I text the drummer at 3am you would be right.

I’d done so well! It had been 9 days since I had sent him any texts that had contained any actual words, and even then that text had been just thanking him for checking in on me- he knew I’d been having a rough few days- and 8 days since I sent him a text with a couple of emoji. I hadn’t replied to him at all. My theory had been if I could get through a week of not replying, I would be golden. And I made it through that week. His face didn’t stare at me every time I opened my Facebook messenger, he was far enough down the list I didn’t see his face anymore. He hadn’t been texting me- it had been 6 days since I’d gotten a text or a phone call, I thought maybe he’d ‘gotten the hint’ if that's what I was trying to do. I’d posted a selfie to Facebook right before I’d left for the pub. I can count on one hand the number of posts I have that he’s ever ‘liked’. Two. Exactly two posts. One in October that had said something about “Whisky Wednesdays” and that damn selfie I posted on Saturday night before I went to the pub. So, as you can imagine, it came as quite a shock when I saw his name on the list of people who had ‘liked’ my photo. So, between all the whisky I’d had, the mushroom tea, a bit of pot, still missing him even though I shouldn’t, and then seeing his name on that list, my brain was spinning. My feelings were spinning. My drunk brain combined with my wild BPD emotions and my phone was in my hand.

Text 1: I’ve spent the better part of a week trying my damnedest to not text you. And here I am, drunk, texting you. Why? Because I miss your stupid face and your stupid texts and your stupid calls. And I miss you and I shouldn’t miss you but I do.

Text 2: Why do I miss you? (My BFF) contributes it to being stupid. I think it’s because, well, I wish I could put it into words that someone would understand because I don’t even understand it.

Text 3: It’s bloody stupid. I’ve written about it. I’ve written you a ‘goodbye’ letter but apparently, it hasn’t stuck in my stupid brain because here I am drunk telling you that I miss you and I wish I could see you and that I care too much and you care too little and it breaks my heart and

Text 4: And I slightly hate myself for this shit

And then I called him when I was walking home...

Text 5: And I can’t even bring myself to let someone take me home. Or bring them home. Because it feels a bit wrong. And it shouldn’t because we know it doesn’t for you so what the fuck is wrong with me

Text 6, sent 24 hours later: I need to apologize. I never should have said those things regardless of my state of mind at the time. It was not fair to you to have to read the things I said, nor was it okay in any way or form for you to have to experience my drunken behavior. I’m sorry. I was unfair to you and I feel terrible about the things I said.

He’s read all the messages. If I remember correctly, he’d read the first 4 by 4am Saturday night (or Sunday morning if that's how you look at it) and the 5th at 6:15am Sunday morning. He’s not replied. I was only half honest in my apology- I am sorry for the things I said, and I shouldn’t have said them, not to him anyway. And he shouldn’t have had to be on the receiving end of my drunken anger and rambling, no one should have. I’m not sorry I said the things I said. I don’t feel bad about it. I shouldn’t have told him that I still miss him. I know he checks my Facebook page, he looks at the things I post, he’s told me flat out that he does. And sure, I’ve posted numerous things that were directed at him, and he knows that. I think he knows that I miss him and he definitely knows that I still care. I didn’t have to tell him. If I’m being honest right this minute, I said all those things to make him feel a little bad, to make him miss me, or in the hopes the things I said would make him feel a little bad and in hopes they would make him miss me a little too. Pitiful, I’m well aware, but I can’t take it back, and I can’t change it, all I can do now is own it and move on from it.

And start all over at day 1.

[the-desolated-quill]

Okay, Enough With The Live Action/CGI Hybrids - Quill’s Scribbles

So the trailer for the upcoming Sonic The Hedgehog movie came out...

Do I really need to say it? Everyone and their mums have already said it. Hell, you’re probably saying it right now.

Sigh. Okay. Fuck it. I’ll say it.

Who the fuck thought this was a good idea?!?!

The trailer itself is shockingly bad. It looks bland and generic with almost nothing in common with the games. The jokes are forced and painfully unfunny (why are the people in the airport more concerned that the ‘child’ in the bag isn’t James Marsden’s rather than that there’s a fucking child in the bag in the first place?!), Jim Carrey is being his usual obnoxious self and is plain and simply a terrible choice for Doctor Eggman (isn’t the whole point of Doctor Eggman that he’s supposed to, you know, look like an egg?), and the soundtrack is utterly cringeworthy (Gangsta’s Paradise? Really?!?!). But that all pales in comparison to by far and away the biggest problem with the trailer. And I think you can all guess what that is. 

Yes I’m of course referring to the noticeable absence of Team Chaotix. An artistic decision so despicable, it’s practically a hate crime. For shame! Everyone knows that Charmy Bee is the best character in the franchise and yet they don’t have the guts to put him in the movie! Fucking philistines!

...

Oh yeah, and Sonic the Hedgehog looks like a monstrous abomination concocted from the fever dreams of Doctor Frankenstein and Walt Disney.

It’s hard to know where to start when talking about just how grotesque and disgusting this CGI Sonic is. He looks like what your computer would produce if it caught pneumonia. What I especially don’t understand is why they veered away so heavily from the original, iconic design. I mean...

I don’t know about you, but I’d honestly have no problem if the movie just kept this look from the games. Hell, I think even giving him realistic fur would be pushing it. This is perfectly fine. I could totally see this design working in a movie. Instead we get the secret love child of Gollum and Papa Smurf.

He just looks so weird with human proportions. The leg muscles, the two eyes, the human looking teeth. Apparently the filmmakers wanted this Sonic to look as realistic as possible. Because when I pay to see a movie about an anthropomorphic blue hedgehog that can run at supersonic speeds, that’s my first thought. ‘Is it realistic?’

... Jesus Christ.

But of course the main problem with this live action Sonic movie is that it exists in the first place. When it was first announced, I assumed in my naivety that it would be an animated movie. Because that would make sense, right? There have been movie and TV adaptations before and they were all animated. Imagine a big budget computer animated Sonic movie. That would be really cool. But it was not to be. In Hollywood’s infinite wisdom, they decided to go the live action route because... Actually why did they choose to go the live action route? Well that’s what I hope to address in this very Scribble.

Live action adaptations and remakes are nothing new of course. Disney had tried it a few times in the past with movies like 101 Dalmations, there have been other live action versions of animated or illustrated characters such as the Grinch and the Cat In The Hat, Garfield, the Smurfs and Alvin and the Chipmunks, and there was of course the infamous Super Mario Bros movie, which answered the question of what it would be like if the Mushroom Kingdom took place in the same universe as Judge Dredd. But this is the first time live action/CGI hybrids have been huge money spinners. Disney struck gold back in 2010 when Tim Burton’s version of Alice In Wonderland made a billion dollars at the box office and now the company is mining through their back catalogue of Disney classics and giving all their movies the live action treatment. Initially I was okay with this because in the case of Alice In Wonderland and Maleficent they were at least trying to reinterpret the original films and put a new spin on them, but now they just seem to be copying the movies verbatim. Making live action remakes just for the sake of making live action remakes.

Now other studios are trying their hand at, the most notable being Pokemon: Detective Pikachu. Here’s a picture of the original Pikachu:

Cute, right?

Now here’s a picture of the live action Pikachu:

Can you see the problem here?

(also why the hell is Ryan Reynolds the voice of Pikachu? I honestly can’t think of anyone more inappropriate for the role. It’s like casting Samuel L. Jackson as a Powerpuff Girl)

The fact of the matter is some things just don’t work in live action. Sonic the Hedgehog and Pokemon work in their respective universes because they’re animated creatures in an animated world, and their anatomy and design fit that world. In the real world, it just doesn’t work. Pikachu looks strange and kind of creepy in the real world. The same is true of the other Pokemon. Jigglypuff looks utterly adorable in the games and animated show with its spherical body and cartoon eyes and you just want to take one to bed with you and cuddle them like a teddy bear, but in the real world it looks fucking scary!

I wouldn’t want to cuddle that thing! It looks like it would go for my throat given the opportunity!

The same is true of Sonic. Paramount’s attempts to make him look more ‘realistic’ just makes him look incredibly alien and out of place.

Another example I like to bring up is the film Christopher Robin. Now we all know Winnie the Pooh. Silly ol’ bear. Charming, cuddly and endearing, right? Just look at him.

How can you not fall in love with him?

Now here’s the live action version:

When I first saw the trailer, I was utterly creeped out. He looks like something out of a horror movie. Add to that that they got the original voice actor from the Disney cartoons to reprise the role, and Winnie the Pooh pretty much became the source of all my nightmares for the next couple of weeks. That lovable voice should not be coming out of that... thing.

It’s a pattern that repeats itself over and over again. Look:

Charming and lovable.

Weird and unsettling.

Creative and fun.

Photoshop disaster.

Sweet and likeable.

Fetch my crucifix and holy water.

Emotional and expressive.

So ‘realistic’ to the point where he looks like he has the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Now I recognise this largely comes down to subjective opinion. If you like these CGI redesigns, that’s great. More power to you. But I know for a fact I’m not the only one getting increasingly weirded out by these computer generated demons from Hell.

So why does Hollywood keep making these films. Well obviously in the case of Disney it’s because they’ve ran out of original ideas and want to make a quick buck by exploiting their audience’s nostalgia. (the same can be said of the Star Wars sequel trilogy). But what about other studios? Yes they’re financially motivated too, but there’s got to be more to it than that.

I think it’s largely down to the stigma of animated movies. Animation has become synonymous with children. When you hear the term ‘animated movie’, you automatically associate it with ‘kid’s film’. And ‘kid’s film’ is often used in a negative context. Like it’s somehow lesser than quote/unquote ‘proper’ movies. Live action suggests a certain pedigree. A sense of prestige. But that’s obviously bollocks. The quality of a film isn’t dictated by whether it’s live action or animated. It’s determined by the writing, directing and acting. There have been live action films made for kids and animated films made for adults. And I’m not talking about Sausage Party. I’m talking about Finding Nemo.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Finding Nemo? Isn’t that a kid’s film? No. It’s a family film. And that right there is the problem. You heard me say Finding Nemo, an animated film about talking fish, and you automatically associated it with a kids film. But the thing is Finding Nemo deals with some very dark and adult themes and its moral message of not being overprotective and allowing children to take risks is intended for the parents, not the kids. Obviously kids can still watch and enjoy Finding Nemo, but it’s the parents who are clearly the target here. The same is true of Toy Story 3. Children can still watch and enjoy it, but the film is clearly intended for people who watched the original Toy Story when they were a kid and are now grown up. When you stop and think about it, it’s really sad that family movies are associated with kids movies. Not that there’s anything wrong with kids movies obviously. But why do people assume that family movies are meant for kids? Why can’t they be adult stories that are also accessible to children? Books have done it. The Artemis Fowl series is kid friendly, but its tone, themes and style suggest the author has an older and more sophisticated target audience in mind. A Series Of Unfortunate Events is popular with kids, but it’s adults that get the full experience because of the way Lemony Snicket uses postmodern and meta-textual elements in the books, which would sail clean over the head of a kid reading it. The idea that a live action remake is somehow more ‘grown-up’ than an animated movie is just absurd. The original Lion King was very grown up, thank you very much. There are lots of bright colours and fun songs for the kids, but it also doesn’t sugarcoat the darker themes such as death, betrayal, corruption and abuse of power. Mufaser’s death isn’t going to be made any more impactful in live action. The animated version was more than heartbreaking.

Shifting the conversation back to Sonic, this is also intrinsically linked with another problem with Hollywood at the moment. Movie adaptations of video games. And again, it’s a similar problem. People, especially critics, view video games as being lesser than movies. Roger Ebert famously said that video games will never be considered art. But that’s nonsense. There have been loads of video games that could be and have been considered art. BioShock, for instance, which scrutinises and criticises both objectivism and capitalism. There’s the Mass Effect trilogy, which is often described as this generation’s Star Wars. The Last Of Us is widely considered to be a masterpiece by gamers and literacy scholars alike. Hell, the fact that Hollywood wants to make movie adaptations of video games at all suggests that games do in fact have some inherent artistic value after all. And it’s not as if I’m wholly against making movies based on video games. There are some games that could translate really well to films, Sonic being one of them. (I personally loved the Ratchet & Clank movie, for example. It’s just a shame nobody else fucking watched it due to the almost non-existent marketing). However there’s an inherent problem with translating video games to movies as opposed to, say, translating books to movies. In book to movies adaptations, studios are adding something. Visuals, sound, performance, etc. In video game to movie adaptations, they have to take things away. The most obvious is interactivity. Unlike movies where nothing is required of the audience other than to just dumbly stare at the screen, video games require the audience to actively control the story. Move the character, kill baddies, solve problems and stay alive. You are an active participant in the narrative. As a result, the emotional connection you feel with both the plot and the characters is often stronger than that in a movie because you have direct influence over what happens. 

Also video games have the luxury of being able to tell their stories over the course of eight to thirty to even a hundred hours of gameplay. There’s no way you could condense something like The Last Of Us down to a two and a half hour movie. There would just be too much lost. Important character moments and plot points that would have to be chucked in the bin. Yes things get lost in book to movie adaptations, but nowhere near at the scale of a game to movie adaptation. A possible workaround would be to make game to TV adaptations instead, but then we’re back to the interactivity problem again. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that movies are better than books or that video games are better than movies. I’m just saying they’re each individually suited to tell their own kinds of stories in their own unique ways, therefore translating from one medium to the other is often difficult. The Last Of Us would never make a good movie, and that’s okay. The game is still amazing and the story is still amazing. Its artistic merit isn’t lessened because it can’t be translated to films, in the same way the merits of a bike aren’t lessened because it can’t fly. It’s just not designed to do that.

I guess the point I’m making is there’s no one way to tell a good story. There are an infinite number of ways it can be done. So lets stop Hollywood’s obsession with pigeonholing everything into one format and actually explore the possibilities, shall we?

[crazedlunatic]

Break Up Talk

“Daddy, I just don’t know if Logan is the one. We argue a lot. I want a relationship like yours and Daddy’s. You two are perfect. High school sweethearts, survived long distance, both have great careers and totally awesome children. You love each other so much.” Sophie sighed. “And you never argue.”

Blaine, who was grabbing something from the fridge, turned to look at Sophie and Kurt.

Kurt gave him a threatening look as a grin spread across Blaine’s face.

Were the kids finally old enough to know the truth?

“What do you count as surviving long distance?” Blaine asked sweetly.

“Blaine.” Kurt hissed.

“Well obviously you all worked through it and didn’t break up. You’re here today.” Sophie looked at him like he was stupid. “It’s, like, the perfect love story. Especially since most of my friend’s parents are divorced so I have nothing else to compare you to.”

“Don’t make me puke.” Zach, who was sitting on their kitchen island across from Sophie and eating Fruity Pebbles (yes, at 7:00 at night—he was Blaine’s offspring, after all), cringed.

“We did work through it.” Kurt said, giving Blaine a pointed look.

“Except for the nine months we were apart since you had ripped out my heart and put it through a Shred It truck.” Blaine scoffed.

Nick, who was sitting next to Zach, had been texting Ryan, looked up in shock.

Zach dropped his spoon, getting fruity pebbles down the front of his soccer jersey. “Shit…aki mushrooms.”

“Sure.” Sophie rolled her eyes.

“Nope. He did. Then I threw an engagement ring at his head. That’s why I didn’t propose.” Blaine said cheerfully.

“You broke up with Daddy?” Sophie stared at Kurt.

“Okay. Let’s not take this one sided, alright? I didn’t apply a school several hours away and not tell him until, like, three months before I moved out.”

“Well… I can see why he would.” Nick said under his breath.

“What was that?” Zach asked sweetly---looking and sounding exactly how Blaine had minutes before.

“Okay. Let’s be real. Soph, they don’t argue around you because when you were little you told the headmaster that they beat each other and threatened to kill each other.” Nick said.

“I did not!”

“Yeah, you did. I had to miss the day when the insect man came. They thought I was crying because it was true but I really wanted to see the hissing roaches…. And the scorpion…. “ Zach frowned.

“Why did you have to miss… Oh God. They called you all down to the office?” Kurt looked horrified.

“Yes.” Nick and Zach groaned together.

“Excuse me. My life was just shattered. Let’s get back to this ripping out of hearts and throwing rings—which was rude, Daddy… and Daddy.” Sophie said.

“You really broke up with Dad?” Zach looked heartbroken.

Kurt took a deep breath and glared at Blaine.

“Okay.” Blaine sat on the island as well, making Sophie in the middle of he and Kurt. “He pulled it off life support but really it was both of our faults.”

“Thank you.” Kurt gave him a look. “We did separate for nine months but, honestly, we were pretty much back together without the title after three or four.”

“That’s true.” Blaine nodded. “We had really bad communication and I had a hard time expressing my feelings when something was bothering me…and I would overreact to things that upset me… and there were a lot of times I would go to David and Wes about stuff when I should have just talked it out with Kurt.”

“But what was the final push?” Nick asked.

“A wedding invitation.” Kurt said. “When he told me he was going to Harvard, I thought he was planning to propose… obviously I was upset… even more upset months later when he acted like a proposal wasn’t even in the near future when before he acted like it was a pretty big possibility… I brought it up after Finn’s wedding invitation came and…”

“Boom. Yelling, tears, more yelling, throwing of a ring I stupidly bought to save the relationship even though I wasn’t near ready to get married.” Blaine said. “I went to the airport but honestly ended up going home with David until the end of spring break.”

“We didn’t speak for weeks.” Kurt said. “I called and emailed.”

“I deleted the voicemails and the emails.” Blaine said.

“Did you listen to them? And read them?” Nick asked.

“Not at first… but after a month I went back and did.” Blaine admitted.

“You did?” Kurt looked surprised.

“Yes.” Blaine nodded.

“You never told me that.” Kurt gave Blaine a sad look.

“I can’t believe this.” Sophie sighed. “Did you two date other people? No. You have to be each other's only ones. Obviously you lost your virginity to each other.”

“Actually he tried to date a guy five years older than him for a discount at the Gap.” Kurt said. “That was before we were together. Then when we were separated, he brought a girl to a Dalton Warbler event. As a date.”

“I still think it’s funny Dad sang in an acapella choir.” Zach snickered.

“Baha. I know.” Nick agreed. “And Daddy in one that sang poppy songs. I don’t know why we were even surprised. Look at them.”

“I know!” Zach exclaimed. “Why didn’t we just assume?”

“I mean honestly I don’t know why anyone would want to be with the lead singer of an acapella glee club. Oh my God. I can’t believe Oprah mentioned that on the special.” Nick let his head fall against the island.

“Does he keep singing—”

“Yes. I have tried to get him to—”

“Me too. Ugh.”

Nick opened his mouth to speak.

“Yes. I definitely did too.”

“Good. As long as I’m not alone in being crazy.”

“Why do I feel like we’re missing a part of this conversation?” Kurt asked, looking annoyed. “I hate when they do this.”

“Alex’s twins do it too apparently.” Blaine shrugged.

“Okay. It’s time to shut up so our fathers can shatter what I believed their perfect relationship was.” Sophie slapped her hand on the island. “Not twin time. Family time. Remember how annoying it is to everyone else when you two do that?”

Zach made a face as Nick silently repeated her words.

“Bob was right. We should have given one of them up for adoption.” Blaine joked.

“Yeah. I mean, it would have had to be Nick since Zach is your carbon copy.”

“I already have a—”

“Identity crisis. We know.” Sophie groaned. “Get over it already.”

“Hey, wait.” Nick said. “There are pictures of you two together at Aunt Rachel and Uncle Finn’s wedding.”

“Oh my God.” Kurt’s eyes widened

“They were totally hooking up.” Nick told Zach.

“Uh, yeah. Obviously.” Zach nodded. “Since they got back together a couple of months later.”

“How would you know that?” Blaine asked.

“Because there’s a cute picture of you two kissing in front of the Christmas tree with Melody in it.” Nick shrugged.

“So can we hear about, you know, the happy ending?”

“Blaine surprised me on December 23rd by showing up. I had gotten an offer for paid sponsorship in California and—”

“You two got back together because you knew you couldn’t be apart. That’s why you stayed in New York.” Sophie let out a happy sigh.

“There was probably a lot of hanky panky after.” Nick said.

“Oh my God.”

“And then Bob moved Dad to New York forever sealing their fate and therefore our fates. Rest in peace, Bob.” Zach said.

“What?” Blaine’s eyes widened in horror. “I just saw him two hours ago.”

“Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t joke about that.” Zach cringed. “He’s not old enough to keel over yet.”

“Bob actually helped me propose.” Kurt said. “He sent Blaine to the library where I proposed at.”

“Bob’s my favorite.” Sophie said. “That’s such a pretty spot too.”

“Yes. The consensus is that Blaine and his offspring all love Bob.” Kurt laughed.

“Can we go back to the dad dating a girl?” Zach asked.

“No, let’s not. Thanks.” Nick said.

“I didn’t date her. I took her… on a date. But it was a dance date. That’s not a real date.” Blaine sputtered.

“She kissed you.”

“Well Derek tried to feel you up, so…”

“Quit running my happily ever after fairy tale!” Sophie exclaimed.

“Sweetie… look at him. Do you think that is a fairy tale? I mean he is my happily ever after but he’s not prince charming.”

“Oh, I knocked you off your feet on the Dalton steps. Get over yourself.” Blaine scoffed. “You looked like you’d just seen Prince Charming.”

“Well at that point you were Prince Charming. Then you got drunk and made out with Rachel and then went on several dates after, Blaine.”

“WHAT?!” Nick, Zach, and Sophie exclaimed together.

“Whoops. We weren’t telling them that, right?” Kurt smiled sweetly at Blaine. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did Finn know about this?” Zach asked.

“Does it matter? Uncle Finn was obviously the better pick since he won.” Nick snorted.

“Okay. I’m going to go and meet my fairy tale Sarah. I’ll be back by eleven.” Zach hopped up.

“No, wait!” Nick said. “Can we drop the bombshell? Can we Zach?”

“What bombshell?” Kurt looked between them.

“We know Quinn’s our mom.” Nick and Zach said together.

“WHAT?!” Kurt, Blaine, and Sophie asked at the same time.

“Ahhh, see you all later.” Zach waved and rushed out the back door.

“ZACHARY!”

“How did you—”

“Uh, because I look exactly like her?” Nick asked. “Her dad is super tall and I’m taller than you. Same color hair and same color eyes?”

“You don’t know who your birth mother is.” Blaine said confidently. “Quinn and my eyes are almost the same.”

“No. I do. Because I went up to her last summer at yours and Sophie’s birthday party and told her I knew she was my mom.” Nick nodded.

“She’s so pretty. Daddy, why didn’t you want to date her instead of Rachel?” Sophie asked. “Wait, does that mean she’s my mom too?”

“She’s not your mom!” Kurt exclaimed.  “You have two dads and you had a surrogate! Just like you are all three both of ours regardless of who the biological father is!”

“So technically you’ve both had sex with Quinn.” Nick said. “I mean sex makes baby and here we are. Well, two of the three.

Blaine had his face covered with his hands and Kurt was staring at the ceiling.

“We’ll just leave you two alone to ponder what wrong choices you made to end up with us three as children.” Nick chirped.

“Why would you bring up Rachel?!”

“Why would you bring up our break?!”

Kurt glared at Blaine.

“At least they didn’t find out about the time I got drunk and made out with Adrian.” Blaine cringed.

“You what?”

“I totally told you that.”

“Uh, you ‘totally’ didn’t.” Kurt gave him a look.

“Oh. Sorry… yeah, we got really drunk and made out once. Then we passed out and never mentioned it again.” Blaine said.

“Well… how was it?” Kurt asked curiously, not seeming upset. “I mean, he’s really hot. He was a professional model.”

“It was actually less exciting than kissing Rachel was. It just… isn’t there. Even drunk there was nothing there.” Blaine shrugged.

“It wasn’t even good?”

“Nope.” Blaine said, very honestly. “Literally like kissing the back of your hand or something. I’m pretty sure Adrian was hoping to get laid, though. After like two minutes he just sat up, said ‘I hate my life,’ took his tennis shoes off, and fell asleep on the edge of his bed still in his jeans. Kissing me was so traumatic he went to sleep.”

Kurt burst out into loud laughter.

“Hey, that’s not very nice.”

“Oh, there are a lot of worse things I could say.”

[nellpire]

Nell official 2018 photobook - Q&A (translation)

Nell

Q: Do you have a goal or a dream, something you want to accomplish under Nell’s name? Jongwan: My goal for the moment is to make the next full album great, and my dream is to maintain my passion for a long time. Jaekyung: I don’t have a dream in particular. If I can keep making good music with the members like right now, I don’t need anything else. All I want is to be more pleased with our future music, in many ways. Junghoon: As it’s always been, my goal is to improve our music, improve our performances. Jaewon: To record a full album at Abbey Road studios in England.

Q: What are your wishes for your 20th year as a band? Jongwan: That it’ll be a better year than this year Jaekyung: A year when our new album is more than satisfactory both to the fans and us members Junghoon: It’ll be a year when our next full album might(?) be out, so I hope it’ll be a musically richer year, and also that we can communicate with our fans more than before. Jaewon: A peaceful year.

Q: What message do you want to deliver through your music? Jongwan: More than a specific message, we hope that we can all mature and be purified together through our music, and that the listeners feel that, too. Jaekyung: I hope everyone will feel it in their own way. Junghoon: I hope our music can become at least a tiny bit of comfort to those who are going through a difficult time, and that it makes this time a little more beautiful for those who are already happy. Jaewon: The spectrum of human emotions, inspiration

Q: What is Space Bohemian to Nell? Jongwan: In progress Jaekyung: Nell’s home. An endless musical space. Junghoon: An unexpectedly cozy nest, and as a CEO(?) I lack a lot but I will work hard to make sure it doesn’t crumble. Jaewon: A 3 year old kid.

Q: What does your annual Christmas concert mean to you? Jongwan: The performance that allows us to attempt the most new things, the performance that’s the hardest to prepare for Jaekyung: A great party to finish off the year with people who like us. Junghoon: First of all it’s Jongwan’s birthday, and it has become a way to end the year and a starting point to prepare for the next. I think I’d be proud beyond measure if “Christmas in Nell’s Room” keeps going for a long time. Jaewon: The feeling of sorting out the past year.

Q: What would you pick as the album and song you’re the most pleased with? Jongwan: I don’t know about the album, and for the song it’s Slip Away right now. But I think it changes a lot. Jaekyung: Slip Away from the album Slip Away. Junghoon: You probably can’t be 100% satisfied with everything, but I think generally I’m pleased with everything. If I’m to pick from those, the album Healing Process comes to mind. I remember feeling proud of how it turned out soundistically and emotionally. As for a song, I’ll pick The Day Before. Jaewon: Slip Away, The Day Before.

Q: How do you wish Nell to be remembered in the future? Jongwan: More than ‘how’, I hope we’ll be remembered for a long time. Jaekyung: As a band who made timeless music. As a band who you’ll listen to when you want to reminisce about a specific time in your life. Junghoon: I think being remembered in any way as long as it’s not negative is something to be thankful for.  Jaewon: As 4 close friends who worked hard to make music.

Q: Please leave a few words of thanks to someone you met during the years you spent promoting as Nell. Jongwan: If it’s a message of thanks, then it has to be towards Simz this year. “Thank you, No Simji”. Jaekyung: Thanks. Junghoon: Looking back on the times we’ve gone drinking together, I feel like that’s been what has helped me not to collapse during the times I’ve been exhausted. I ask you to continue to be here with me, and I hope I can do the same for you. Thank you. Jaewon: Go Hyeonjeong, our sound engineering hyung, I’m always thankful to you for being with us.

Q: Let’s say the first song you hear on January first will determine the mood for the rest of the year. Which song would you play? Jongwan: What comes to mind right now is Coldplay - In My Place. The full-band intro sound is still great no matter how many times I’ve heard it. Jaekyung: Pink Floyd - High Hopes. I hope you’ll listen both to the music and the lyrics. Junghoon - As one says (Yoo Jaesuk & Lee Juk) Jaewon: Pat Metheny with Charlie Haden - Cinema Paradiso. I feel at peace when I hear this song.

Q: What song do you want played at your funeral? Jongwan: The Day Before. Jaekyung: M83 - Farewell / Good bye Junghoon: I haven’t written it yet. Jaewon: The Day Before.

Q: When you listen to music, what do you hear first and consider the most important? The atmosphere, vibe, vocals, lyrics, band sound or other? Jongwan: Since every ingredient including vocals, lyrics and band sound combined is what makes the atmosphere and feeling, I say it’s all of them. You don’t listen to music with your head, so we like music that touches our heart somehow. Jaekyung: Stimuli, inspiration  Junghoon: I don’t think any part is less important. If any single element doesn’t match with me, I won’t feel the song. Back in my teens I listened to a lot of foreign bands but I can’t speak English so lyrics weren’t that important to me, but these days I consider lyrics to be the most important. Jaewon: The general feel of the song

Q: What’s the driving force that compels you to make music? Jongwan: Music itself. Jaekyung: The pleasure and solace that comes from making or listening to music. Junghoon: It changes a lot, but it has to be the fans. I don’t think music that no one listens to would mean that much to me. Jaewon: Fun

Q: Relay compliment time! Jongwan - Jaekyung - Junghoon - Jaewon - Jongwan, tell us something you want to compliment or emulate from the next member. Jongwan: Jaekyung - Jaekyung is kind. Yashashii guy. Jaekyung: Junghoon - his strength and sincerity that doesn’t let it show when he’s having a hard time. Junghoon: Jaewon - First of all, he’s the kindest in our team. He has many human sides and he’s the most sociable among us members. I think that’s why he has the most friends. He’s the least talkative, but with the spare jokes he throws he’s the funniest, too. And he’s handsome. Jaewon: Jongwan - his passion for music.

Q: How do you feel about the last year in your thirties? Jongwan: I’m still 37 as I’m writing this.  Jaekyung: Great. Junghoon: Nothing much has changed as of right now. But I do feel like I should treasure and spend my time more wisely from now on. Jaewon: I’m looking forward to next year

Q: What are some of your SBSHs (Small But Sincere Happiness)? Jongwan: Eating a fresh salad with a delicious mushroom pasta. Jaekyung: Eating probiotics in the morning.  Junghoon: Conversations with friends. Meals with family. Watching movies. Getting immersed in games. etc etc, there’s a lot. Jaewon: The way home after a day of hard work

Q: I’m curious about the epitaph you want on your tombstones! Jongwan: That’s too difficult -- but I do wonder why that matters for a person who has already passed. Jaekyung: ‘What are you looking at?’ Junghoon: I don’t want to think about that yet. Jaewon: Love and peace.

Q: What do you think is the most desirable trait? Jongwan: Being passionate for something or someone. Jaekyung: People who cherish people. Junghoon: People who look weak and sloppy normally but become stronger and wiser than anyone else when it really matters. I guess that’s like a manga character. Jaewon: People who don’t do bad things.

Q: What’s something that gives you strength if you so much as think of it? Jongwan: Travel Jaekyung: The performances we make with the fans Junghoon: My people Jaewon: Friends

Q: If you were to released rearranged songs, which would you like to try your hand at the most? Jongwan: There’s none that comes to mind right now, but I do want to try Sunggyu’s Kontrol in a quieter mood. Jaekyung: Travis - Luv Junghoon: Byun Jinsub - You to Me Again Jaewon: Nirvana - Come as you are

Q: What’s the most attractive to you: When the other person has the same values as you vs when they’re different? Jongwan: When they’re the same Jaekyung: Whether they were the same or different initially, I’m attracted to instances when they can change my beliefs. And times when we want the same things yet have different beliefs.  Junghoon: Both Jaewon: When they’re the same.

Jongwan

Q: What’s the greatest realization you’ve come to this year?  “Let’s work hard to do our job”

Q: Please pick one movie and one book from this year! If I’m to pick a movie that made me think a lot rather than a movie from this year, then “the killing of a sacred deer”. As for the book, “Twinkle Twinkle” by Kaori Ekuni lingers in my mind because it made me feel very different things from the first time I read it.

Q: Which of your songs do you feel visualizes the sound the best? Tinnitus

Q: When you’re consuming media that links music and visuals together (like music videos and movies), what do you think is the most important part? Do you have any interest in composing movie scores? How well it expresses the point. For example, I think the music video has to deepen the message the music wants to get across, and oppositely for movies, the music has to deepen what the movie wants to express. I’m always interested in working on film scores.

Q: Among the songs you’ve written, which one could you never write again even if you wanted to? The Day Before

Q: What instrument that you’ve never tried your hand at would you like to learn the most? Harp and cello

Q: If -- just IF -- you were to hold your last concert as Nell, which song would you want to finish off with? 12 Seconds

Q: How would you rate our fanchanting abilities? Excellent.

Q: Are you aware of how cute you are? How would you rank the members’ cuteness? I don’t want to know. And I’m not sure about the ranking, but Jaekyung has the most moments of cuteness.

Q: What’s the reason for your use of the expression ‘to get to meet’ instead of ‘to meet’? (t/n: this question refers to the verb ‘만나지다 (mannajida)’ vs ‘만나다 (mannada)’. 만나다 means simply “to meet”, but Jongwan often uses 만나지다 in his lyrics instead. the addition of the ‘지’ implies that the two people who met didn’t do so by their own choice, but that it’s something that just happened to them. you can see this, for example in Afterglow, Island and Sing For Me.) I suppose that’s because I tend to believe in some version of fate, looking at the probability of things. How small is the probability of me meeting the people I have in my life when there are so many people on this earth? I often think that these things happen regardless of my will.

Q: What ‘existence’, ‘source’ or ‘thought’ inspires you recently? Myself, both in a positive and negative sense.

Q: What would you do if someone stole the journal in which you keep all your memos and requested 100,000,000 won to return it? I guess I should report them?

Q: What’s something you feel you are the greatest at in the entire world? Nothing.

Q: Though there’s nothing that Kim Expert can’t do, what’s something you think you’re absolutely terrible at? (Minus driving) Everything other than what I’m good at.

Q: The legendary Thank You performance… have you ever rewatched it? (t/n: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfVmHDnZnoE) Never.

Q: What do you like to drink and snack on when you’re in a good mood? For good moods, soju. I don’t think the snacks matter that much.

Q: What are the pros and cons of having your birthday on Christmas eve? The bad side is having my birthday the day before the most famous person on earth. The good side-- uhm… getting to perform?

Q: What’s the meaning of your signature “shh” pose? There’s no meaning to it, the reason I do it is because it’s comfortable to have a go-to pose at photoshoots.

Q: Fans think your personality has become a lot milder, but what do you think? Everyone is free to have their own opinion.

Q: What is winter to you? Grey mixed with blue

Jaekyung

Q: What was your greatest expense this year? The new Space Bohemian office that we finished by the end of the year.

Q: The over-all song aside, on which song are you the most pleased with your guitar performance? Farewell

Q: What’s the first song you ever attempted to play? Metallica - Enter Sandman

Q: Do you have plans to play the keyboards again at a future performance? Of course.

Q: Other than the guitar, photography and Japanese studies, what are you focusing on recently? International relations

Q: What smell of perfume and/or body lotion to you like and/or use? Artisan

Q: If you had a younger sister and you absolutely had to set her up with one of the members, who would you pick and why? I’d be 100% opposed to it ^^

Q: What was Jaekyung’s favorite karaoke song in his school days? 이젠 안녕, 더 늦기전에, 우리 앞에 생이 ���나갈 때

Q: It’s such a pity that you don’t talk much during concerts, do you have any plans to change that? I do.

Q: You’re known to have a lot of fear, but what’s something that makes you think “at least I’m not scared of this!”? Nothing. I’m scared of everything in this life

Q: You’re very tall and you have such pretty dimples, but if you were given this choice: eating cucumbers or cutting your height down to 165cm + losing your dimples, what would you pick? I think I’ll throw up

Q: What’s your favorite hamburger these days? What joint and what menu? I don’t need recent burgers. Tradition is important. It’s Big Mac

Q: Bottled vs canned beer Canned

Q: Would you accept a request for you to go out to the finale of Paris fashion week wearing your fan pattern t-shirt? I’d decide based on the fee.

(t/n:

Fans are still mocking him for this look.)

Q: What’s something you wish people would stop saying to you? As long as they keep their manners, anything is fine.

Q: A word you use often? “First of all’

Q: How many selfies do you take before you upload one? 250!

Q: Any plans to open a selfie exhibition? Yes.

Q: If you were to live in Kim Jongwan’s body for one day, what would you do? Play baseball.

Q: The time to escape Lee Jenkyung is one year closer now, how do you feel? (t/n: Jaekyung has promised to sing at a Nell concert once he’s in his 40s. The name ‘Lee Jenkyung’ comes from the Pia members after Jaekyung started singing the song 기억의 습작 by 전람회 at their Newton’s Apple concert -- the song starts with the word 이제… (ije = now), which sounds like the 이재 (ijae) of 이재경, Lee Jaekyung.) Pitapat

Junghoon

Q: What’s the most memorable movie or drama you’ve watched this year, and why? ‘Searching’ felt new and fresh.

Q: Which purchase were you the most pleased with this year? Ipad pro 10.5

Q: I’m curious about your camera equipment Sony Rx100-M4, Leica X1 (currently broken), Ricoh GR1S (currently broken), LOMO instant automat polaroid camera

Q: What’s your favorite bread? Ah… Sweet red bean paste bread comes to mind right now.

Q: Do you use scented candles? If so, which scent do you prefer? I prefer to use a diffuser over candles. Because you have to keep lighting the candles and putting them out again.

Q: What games would you recommend for a newbie? (Switch or playstation doesn’t matter) The Last of Us, Legend of Zelda

Q: What’s the reason you adopted a cat? No special reason.

Q: If you were to open an exhibition, what would you like your debut work to be about? Moments from our performance

Q: What are horn rimmed glasses to you? The face.

Q: What’s your secret to becoming more and more of an eloquent speaker? Trying, of course. I still lack a lot.

Q: What is it that you ultimately want to achieve through youtube? Ad revenue or band promotion? Or ad revenue through band promotions? Of course there’s the promotions, and though it’s still far away there could be ad revenue at some point, too. But ultimately I think it’s about a sense of accomplishment through something other than music, or another type of accomplishment through music.

Q: Do you have any thoughts of creating your own music video or behind the scenes clips? I’m not at the level to think about things like that… But I do want to create videos every now and again as a hobby.

Q: What song do you enjoy singing the backup vocals for the most? The rearranged version of Cure.

Q: During one of your streams you said that seeing the fans gives you strength (^^), so what would you like to say to the fans? Gain strength from looking at me. … I’m sorry.

Q: What’s a special right you have as the CEO? Stress.. invaluable business and pressure

Q: Other than yourself, who do you think would be fit to be the CEO? Kim Jongwan

Q: At Jang Yunju’s rooftop radio in 2014 you said that Nell had been together for fifteen years but you still hadn’t seen Jaekyung naked. Have you still(!) not seen it? Nope, I still haven’t.

Q: What’s something you’d like to accomplish for yourself and not as Lee Junghoon, bassist of Nell, or Lee Junghoon, CEO of Space Bohemian? I’d like to go travelling to watch soccer in England or Spain and attend a lot of great performances. Also, studying English.

Q: For your next collaboration with other artists, what kind of thoughts do you wish they’d have about your work? I like so many artists, so as long as we match it doesn’t matter much to me what they think.

Q: What’s the most surprising slang you’ve learned recently? Honkono (t/n: going alone to a coin karaoke joint), ilko (t/n: pretending not to be a fan). They aren’t that surprising, but I’d never have guessed the meanings unless someone taught me.

Jaewon

Q: Out of all the pictures you’ve drawn this year, which was your favorite? The drawing for our Nell’s Room coloring event. I bow my head in thanks to all those who participated.

Q: I’m curious about the backstory, profile and all things Esby! (Please tell us the reason why they’re called Esby and what the Korean pronunciation is -- isby vs esby.) I took the initials from Space Bohemian (S.B) to make Esby. I drew it because I thought it’d be nice if there was a character with a calm personality who anyone can draw easily. I guess you could say that Esby is a free character who isn’t bound to any expression, gender, size or space.

Q: What’s your favorite drum stick? I have no specific favorite but I use Vic Firth drum sticks the most.

Q: From the crowd’s perspective there are times when we can’t see the drums very well, but how do you experience the crowd from a performer’s perspective? It’s an overwhelming experience when the crowd’s energy becomes one with ours.

Q: Which song do you think is the most fun to play? Ocean of Light

Q: What equipment did you use the most during the recording of the latest acoustic album? C&C drum set and A&F snares

Q: What was your honest first impression of Junghoon? Kind and pure personality. Wore fancy, colorful hiphop style clothes.

Q: Who among the members do you feel is truly weird and why? They’re all weird, but Jaekyung is seriously strange. He’s lost his mind.

Q: What do you prioritize between love and peace, and why? Love. Would the world exist without it?

Q: Recommend to us your favorite night snack please! Ddeokbokki

Q: If you could have one superpower, what would it be? Midas touch

Q: What’s a bad habit you’d like to get rid of? Procrastination

Q: The longest time you’ve spent walking? Nine hours

Q: The best reaction you’ve gotten to a meal you’ve cooked? Most of them are not great

Q: The newest photo in your phone? A picture from a Japanese airport

Q: Why did you get your tattoos? Because I was bored

Q: What does the Vain Hope MV recording mean to you? It felt like going on a trip on my own. We’d just finished a rock festival so the others were enjoying themselves which made me feel even more alone

Q: If you were to stand on stage as Jung Jaewon band again, what’s a song you’d want to perform, and perhaps some stage equipment that would go well with it? Maybe because the movie Bohemian Rhapsody is becoming so popular these days, I’d like to play a Queen song. I’m not sure about equipment but I’d like to dress up properly once.

Q: Be honest, have you ever worked harder to prepare your stage as Jung Jaewon band than the rest of your concert? No. I think it’s more fun the more impromptu it is.

Q: What do you pay the most attention to when standing on stage as Jung Jaewon Band’s main vocalist? How to make it as funny as possible kkkkk

Feel free to use, but please credit Nellpire.

[castlehead]

: LITTLE MILE,

PART ONE : : [live for the weekend and buy grams of blow with your paycheck.

see section A. feel good about going for walks. work thru a long distance relationship and get through the suicidal shit okay. then

break promises but also keep a few, not to keep up appearances but you wish rather to keep the purity of your word, which is hard fucking work. wait till she comes for a visit after super long time

apart and spread some roses on the bed because she likes that sort of thing. leave oreos on the pillow as oreos are delicious. ride her later in the night about that time you smoked six cigarettes in five

minutes as she was blowing xanax to prove a point. go to sleep crying but remember a few special moments as well and base your memories around that. see GOD for awhile but then decide it was

bullshit and perhaps just your conscience given a literal voice. see section A. hear nobody text you for days and understand some weird nonsensical ehrebung at really enjoying a smoke for the first

time in the morning as you look out the window. it is brisk and sunny and the bricks of the buildings look beautiful. think what a day what a day etc. then actually try to accomplish something with friends in

PARK SLOPE. understand finally that the general agreement is you whack as shit. then find a letter from your girlfriend from awhile ago and feel uplifted all over again for some reason but as for positivity

you do not discriminate. drink horn of sun to fierce last dregs. think about whether you are actually thin or just think you get thinner when you are really just used to how fat you are. talk to your girlfriend at

a certain point mentioned in section A. while on break for way too long.

sweat out a cluttered subway ride every morning forever. decide to jump off the BROOKLYN BRIDGE then decide not to. look meaningfully at a

church because you are reading twilight of the idols. repeat a lot of different stuff at irregular intervals. repeat stuff at regular intervals. learn that those statements are an acceptable example of an irregular repetition: or is

irregular as regards time only, not difference: an irregular life has less to do with fiber than we think. an irregular life can be as varied as disposition to pate : : as feeling to brokenness, as alteration altered to fear of change

might comfort one back into the nest of ignorance : it doesn't have to mean as regards, well, anything : it itself can be fiber, a fibrous fiber: so: we scrounge for something burred underneath the soft netting: crack up: put way too much

weight in your presence at social events : leave social events early or go to sleep in front of everybody pretending to be passed out : see social events as a total stressor : don't kno what to do : never know what to do ever: social

events. assume yourself a negative, discomfited person thereby. lose all friends because you dig deep into stupidity to find a reason for it, think about it until you go blind, rectify and rectify till all's a mess: is that what you want: yes:

friends are lost based upon too many simpering blasted apologies. really wish that you will leave a good looking corpse and do leave a good looking corpse. wonder why you don’t think about childhood very often, as in the concept.

see section A. come to the conclusion that fuck yes it is too late to have a happy one but really come to understand that that doesn’t matter as all things are for a time anyway but then get pissed off about this because you then realize as well

that you are mere mortal and still fields of open grass and oak away from describing something beautiful or whatever but then also wonder that you are infinite wherein the moment is concerned: and then think about your ex

for some crazy reason because all that matters is the past as regards what you’d want to retain in some eternal rolodex of spite or some shit, or maybe it’s just you but you can’t reimburse your mom because of all the infinite

you’re feeling and tell her you can’t and she says that is okay but doesn’t mention that it is ok because the advent of your twenties was mainly depressing, and you there, in room, gnawing at psyche like some useless ape as usual say, WELL

OUT WITH IT, and there she goes finagling a fart out of her ass your mom we are speaking of your mom and her aggravation and her remnant pain from a lost job years ago because oh certainly to fail once is to fail forever

and then you as you are young realize the moment is forever and you can make it a failure and you can make it a wonderful revealing of some big thickened BLEAR asking for property, asking for sense to be given it but you

can’t you can’t justify the dread nay [beckett] nor the odd ghosts in your bathroom that time you spoke to yourself for days and and and so then so then the weekend promises at least an end to this damned ineradicable

gloom and empty state as in empty and taxing but no state of emptiness no state of gloom yet here is gloom here is the reflections of a man refusing too long to look in the damn mirror and see himself is it you or is it i or is it all

the damn farts from the woman who birthed you wanting to be the final whiffing sound as to all of your gutsy failures and drudges through fields of stone and grass and oak you paint out of a backpack and some green

carpet in your room that one time you tripped balls on a tuesday on mushrooms and the razor talked to you and proved by its unassuming nature a very grill to the face that damned long face of a son too burnt

into his own damned house and wired by the damned eternity that sounds like some resilient, grand tocsin, some priketh ye some don’t but ya know it’s all just plain forgotten and happy at that, I’d live in codes wordless

more than explain this meaninglessness and/or stain on the life of time, that is humanity: that is growth: that is the paradigm of something written, written, scratched along the judgments of your mom’s farting fucking

asshole, your grown ass self, so proud to put on pants, so good at that one joke made riskily at a party and relished ever afterwards, so good at failure, happy failure, happy, happy to enter that small crack in the sadness too, happy

to bloom out of dismissal, shunning, happy to mature past the point of needing a single reason for a fart, an end, or a waste of mind. turn 30.

repeat. [etc] see section A.] ?? . . . .

RAGE on rage on, collapse into morning day like something of a storm, at least Frightful mist, some thunder bloom / glass incipient of the troubling harrowing: Some awful precondition. Out its frightful bells: wetly dew paints grass lucent-

-And I rise away from all that in my small cave in my state an eye half open, My knuckles are red from cracking them on my own jaw very a lot that night And some banging head i.e. sleep deprivation considered itself and made it

Worse. I thwarted myself continually mind whanging useless and thickly, like Sometimes i feel like that hamster I had when I was in middle school, wasn't, That i never named - - - uh, worth, it, wasn't worth it . S'ok it's ok for things

To no be worth it. Don't cry well then here's a fucking cookie Tard. I literally Just spat up phlegm right on my computer / no joke / I am freakish, & loud Also re hamster-mortality: I kno it is tragic, my girlfriend lost HAMSTERR

Named peanut. An entire quadrant of space specking thru eyes of that thing All day . Dont think ive evr done this much speed in one night (lol) i dont think i should be able to backtalk : this quick speed = religious,

[chalk dust molars fanatical facial people crunch 'em with 'em to dust. be sure to drudge up spume in the foggy brume some master floater or for sake of interracial justice an inanimate image of justice untarnished by opinion

or blaspheme. vulgar just for sake of cashing in on the weird honey : dip in there : of big politics etc anticipatory raging, prolepsis, summoner say : ARiSE ! ! !! : my girlfriend: she is sleeping right next to the and oh like a lamb she is, right

next to the voodoo-man, shepherd, making us all fly thru the honey right into some strict objective eye, truly naked vision, making commune with image and self. - - ] She goes on dozing into me and snoring soft like a, like subtle universal truth, or

Somethin. My snot is stuck in the bakc of my skull, i feel, i feel like waking up my Girlfriend with my hands all over like tidal waves : : i know hamstermortality, to let The reader kno : it is the wave of arcanum 17 : it is, it is waft of hope, like random

Prescience. Iit is the great like space etc of all, or some completely lazy encompassing. Kewl things only exist cuz hm i guess they exist for — — time, like hamsterts, Hamsters = meaning of universe, it’s like classical semantics or fuzzy logic:

Supervaluationists predicting borderline cases!!! How many hairs must i lose before You can call me bald : for the hairs will exist alway / they will, they will scream out : They will be a thing that is they are the very fuxxx god calls logic

Slash these words apart, greet blame and slash that, grab the bags: Run from the rage then, drum up some possibility for fuel, beat legs For leagues. ‘Message’ after ye with a bat, won’t get a thing so. But

Kicked up dust he’ll cough on, sweat drooling, finally fatigued: marigolds Fooling in the wind around him, agh, long day: we run into the ‘Pome’ Later: find it sucking on a sugar lump in some coffeeshop, well, money:

Who knew, who but the pivot finally: as drain groans a fable like a job to Do. Shit twists with flood and the seagulls berating lend belief at it all with Solid statement, caw, caw, wishing, duh, To Be Done With Message

Of course, especially one that some brine of heart sloshed up: some Reticular wisdom like as hair, hateful : some weird gloss over shadow Dims the bald head, the bald ‘Message’ - the crested ol’ bigot furious

Yawp yapping damnable in that there roast for the father: big squeeze, Squeeze of animus. Finally, down the block of stillness, down dug into The brig, obstructed color, rigid air, manic doors, kids laughing at him:

Little Mile : : feel it all over again : what answers can we get to as regards You fully: an elliptical, maybe? Or trash, or earthy disarrangement, dirt, Particles resulting in flipflop, wages made but unfulfilled for good? Or

Maybe marigolds !! Breezes coming out of their loops into wiggling weight Themselves, hulking as cathedral tunes, heavy with ambiguous threadiness, And that holy torment of an ever-figuring progenitor, professor of the

'Message'—black & bleak—against the righteous curiosity, ol' puff-head, ol' Apoplectic, Sorry For The State Of - - and dese homeless parties of the Sad. The sad chase, the chase as I must do is still solo. But grand, the

Hemophilic fire, the rusty brigade o’ pleaches o’ daffy hair, dummy cunt To stake on cosmic sex, just a blowoff: still. Then. Little dragoons whiffed It up anyways and blessed the fakery past mythos into real, made a great,

Big sepulcher for all 'em fathers: all the risks at tacky jive: lagoon: great, Great swoon of fibrous living out the ducky’s little murmuring in the mud, Tump-a-tump with buckles o’ swash : #dgaf : yet is we da pirate , as in ,

We is , we ah make anything magnificent and say it is that and leave it So. We. Croon and wait for that swell damned music’s dish to punch big and soft into the pillow : we: meet poetry POETRY POETRY POUR IT ALL

And soft into th. pillow. We. Down a side-street : have a baffled-eye ‘a sec: Din in the den gets closed the sisters ears : think some nature-shit: stfu: Bucolic site there wispy girl : pencil neck : root , , , for Image-Pleasant:

For you that is : root for the Panjundrum not, in his anger-yells all daffy, Deadening reasons for the noise, amplified like a big [bracket] to the side Of something, past declaration, past the final honesty and towards some

New squeamish chuck of ew-grease out of my bad throat : 'Message' Attempts to toughen with - providence, it feels, it knows - of mere scraps Of itself, and then I emit new strings for my shoes, frayed knot, couple

Stoners ranting in a parking lot when one sees a human innim and flees, From eye of him : one states the [bracket] as annotation even though it Supplies nothing : mere notation is as much enclitic for an infidel sense

As rhyming to behead borders of rhythm with timing , adding meaning Like chaff at the end while a sprocket ebbs out then 'splodes at once, a Gathering of mite and fingernail and bedding shod in the cracks under

The bland couch then sets aflame, burning down the garbage, which is Everywhere : police police : fuck da : : whelp : lost musings only whelm As much as one is willing to go rapidly , that is, will be as quality as the

Quicken, enacting some different statement thru defensive natures of style Like Declension : Logoaedic : parse the thought, then let it run before the Jello melts, food gets cold: picnic raped by ants. Premise of the rule. So the:

Uh: bracketed, shuffling fragged things dole more out for the warmness, As in, have something mean what it means, leave it at notation , make the Final well and, "End like a spear, not like a broom" - - Well, who knows

About honor: maybe just to prove myself I will right something really for Awhile too messed for the husbandman to mould with his ass: drop the Incisive manacles, they get my wrist bit with copper: write to right a thing

You never mention: madden out copper tongues: make demands about Stuff you have no idea you are actually talking about: but that's not going To mention itself either and is perhaps what is missing for the right reasons:

So why yell out proper tongues if that is all tongues want is their own voice To hock a spray of legit logey sniffed up the nasal psg. and out into the World. Well. Garbage burns itself to slew. But you like that. You enjoy

The mesmerized epiphanic trumpeting, priketh, prike prike : nasty uncle, He was , and a bald head a sunshine away from DEATH-LAZER. Stun, But be stupid as brick. As was said, I speak to reflect mirrors in darkness.

Should be obvious. Maybe this inkling of finding a new way to speak'll Dart straight for the first reason to pant and wave commodities at the sullen Sucker-tourist upon losing his next day's provender at the hands of silly kids.

DeMand: Wring rungs out proper tongues, lick pompous, drone on in thatt Stat o’ thing: status of thing: state of things: rut t tt t t t tt t tt t t tttt tt t t t t tttt Guts me : feeling in’t I feel nothing but in hole: & & & & & & & & & & & & &

Still the great compilers edge more into the fantastic, learn to eat it along with The tragic as one happy meal. Eventual blossom, hoping Mary and Ed ride fine Off into the sunset, cans tied to the bumper clicking like cliché: Jesus is sick :

He tells me so much is at risk here : then again, who could harbor such a feel But Big J or Yeezy : : well he’s a prick : that’s why you shouldn't music so much: I don’t listen to music nomores: even you’re tarnished bc of all this harlot noise

Attempting heaven, & whatnot : WHAT? WHO THN ?? WHAT THEN ?? So Fortunately, I’m Done. Getting into ye head. I’m already there. Felt random & Also, tortuous pressure spread keen thru label after label, waiting for sustenance,

It was given, as if words could ugh the body with ugh : feed me with 'don't' is What the character 'Message' means. This sentence means it is myself declaring A sentence. That is what it means, and the Myself in it shines out of that part of

It like some beautiful renegade oxygen, a distillation more perverse, a naked way, A death of all that damnable stuff we got our heads warped around in like some Exquisite Fucking Turban [tho false] tho, maybe drunk off picked points smacking

Of defeat, well : : : such's to give up meaning at all - - MESSAGE _a t_ _a l l_ [?] As if words could damage the body : does language uh have one string it can plukk To stop the heart?[.] Or does it all. Well. Uh, lose weight: is it a fascinating receptacle,

Or mere extensiveeverything: ” Do You Believe In God.” – – – – – – I wouldn't be Able to give you anything for jesus, much less Jews. HAve little idea what I believe. Belief is odd. I think I believe in, just, being chased, you know, for thievery. It's a

Saturated L.A. sun like in this song by [The National] it is called "Pink Rabbits." it Is really damn good I remember feeling like the string to my heart almost cut that one Time. But I couldn't tell you anything a medium in some spooky curtained shop

Wouldn't be able to perform with a bit more erggh 'flair' well damn I despise flair write To construct a core or write to DeMand to write or write to right something wrong w. Your sister's [hairdo] or write about strings. Write about all the strings. What all of

Them would do if connected THE WORLD IS POME across the globe. Don't think There'd be much room else for people. Well no worries then, you’ll steal hunches till you Can’t even breathe a thinnest wisp of sister-air. Enjoy never figuring out anything. I

Like to tip-toe but that's no way to run , I gotta say the world is fucked w/o a point , , , The drain is really sick [!] w. all this flood it might as well be the guts of garbage And the rightness of wrong , of the failed and of lineage thru language do we bring

Our own booze do we sing some amped version of the obvious soullessness everybody Gets to grate all over everybody else like some annoying sadness too small for this World, too inscrutable to be anything bt what it is, what it is not anything, as POME

Is words, not ideas, get subjugated by need to buddy up with certainty by corroborating This or that line with another, breaking another, letting pennies go slipshod thru da Grate, while all the while mighty confusion rends a new surprise in plain polished sight,

But o the bees in my gut wig out more folly but as plain to live and hope by their ruin To bring the ties untangled, yes, state the statement-as-goal, martyr a few mirrors thru Indelible mistake, ending Kierkegaard at Democritus' river etc. NO WE NEVER

STEP THRU THE SAME RIVER TWICE NO NOR PERHAPS ONCE, anyways, The bees escape nathless from a pirson-prison. In spite of all this floppy flotsam, Like some weird torture. The stingings bless, the robust yellow flow mitred across

De backs uf'm. And I still considerable, a regular pill for the unagog men still seeing Me unsightly, some lack, some twit, some spook : er something as like, as what god Makes of his leftovers in the afternoon between jobs: but me young boss: HOSS:

What?, zooks, gain, what gain 'questionmark' nothing an adorable steeple could not Bring together as all us wonderful people together rise them, these middle fingers- -Pointing up UP UP, run with lacking, then, fuck, huh?, shut up, suited only to

Sslipped phrase, the bank account gets canceled & yr out on the streets with only Luck and Fucks to feed you. Wiring runoff, shattered, wrecked, fetid, but all of it So Human that nobody seems to mind: neither of those three words can understand

My theosophy, nor gainsay, I'm too cryptic: : fault fault, fault fault, thwartedness- -But still continuance, shorn but not straight dead. Lucky but suffering. What a bore, To get brought in by force, to the party, snatch a few lichen, press against petri dish

To make dialogue unheard of or no at the party what this is about, this sleight of hand, This emotional screening we seize up and clench our asshole to forget about, rot in it I Say, row those sewage tentacles, mandibles, new legs from the mess, new smack to

The veins, new shot, lessening as day and eyesight, NARCAMNARCAM. Ruin stake [valuesystem] bless me achoo gradient risen sceptic collide me w truth,

Ruin stake dress me up in my garters and delirious falbalas at table, valuesystem,

Run to the ruin: make stand up puppetry the rotary: vast tracts of time enable the- -Child to believe he is infinite. Child god goes wishing-wishing at peak, wishing To see: you flee from definition like that stoner guy from earlier all the time, you

You let the questions mysteries bleed out thru yr fanciful cufflinks: drat: quaint: Wanna bleed staid blood. Want to create the hurt that must hurt, that must come: Just to have some control, as elusive blood, got to pour lopsided from a precious

Wound : : we gaze into ourselves and do not speak, wondering what batty thing Happened back there: we go wishing to dash away performance with a little more Laze: 5-year-old Genius. But yea. But, with you I shuffle into someone free. You

You see the curtain and you know the pianist is behind it nodding off into overdose: You are knowing what curtains mean and that curtains rarely help to cover meanings: You realize there is nothing to peek at nothing to see so you shrug and go home to

Your death, ever-approaching some more-appropriate redness , , , but the redness in The West , tho. What's with that haze that looks like the hoarsest GLARE of all: It is the shot in the arm taken too breezy, brought you to the finale, the glimpse then

Recession into embedding blank blankets of so-and-so upon your life, weighty big Deaths greeting you with comfort, delicious sating of the lorn, and raggedy willful Bravery so long perceived like an animal, that is, now seen so much to salute. So I

Have access now into your maze : it is dangerous here : bees go grinding against the Gut. Entrails that trail haphazard underneath everything forever : the flighty frolic Of your hair, sister : good on you for nvr doing hoarse/horse. Your hair that speaks

In looks looks like the bigger maze, the bigger harder hug to give one day when just , When things get better: just so one don't get bitter, what from examining all sides of The same pipe dream. DeMand, and makes thus bigger dissonance w. me. Say me,

Of your aspect, at base, nothing less, your talent is my name and sister-curse, my uh My name is one to have in spades, you gotta have it so it radically disappears under A veil mentioned elsewhere in full wherein the chase is always and never the point

As your legs, extremities exist by the disappearance of a prior location, or some Name, some name called death we get into other ideas 'bout. But it is a lost name. Bu I cannot bless more than I bleed. Whatever that means. Perhaps I tell

This to others, they do not offer but stares and blinking : oh alienation : what an Easily dismissible thing : REAL PROBLEMS hah : in that case, those girls Kidnapped in Nigeria're having real problems : suffering is subjective & hell

We, as In I, Race Towards It as anything the wiser, wise as answer, jus cast answer, Jus cast ANSWER:- whatever happen to be, jus quake out a few inappropriate Inabilities in front of anyway, including meshing: hear aspersions there, here

And there: I say, if one feels pathos then uh                              you know the whitest lash fuck express it, fuck!, don’t you                        painful on your brow                                                                              loose the snow came, bother with a perfect shape as the                   clad in crammed houses families shape you have is naturally a very          frown at homies, themselves children, improvisation, imperfect as a sky                made random and the same                                                                                 as all storm, asleep flakes or something, like, one sky, just                        made like me to feel like an actor one. i guess, uh. that is what i                                       make like to me guess. that nothing happens if we                                     within the thin walls,                                                                   while bruised dads glimpse the hood are indifferent or something. give           in rochester,   barely guap to eat, to obsession, passion etc. then uh                       my father runs into a grand jizz what follows’s a thing the greater                                  on the way back                                                                        captures it and puts it in a safe . for therapy. write on for therapy?                               his father was a vato, well fuck yes. do it and do it and                           gift-wrapping raining down do it. i like channeling whitman , ,           on christmas, wanting to capture fame                                                                                       and getting the pink slip . cuz it’a means wealth, like, iduno                    it was majestic, slowly he i guess like, [vulgate,vulgate] it    drowned in throat cancer, later. my dads hates is freewheeling all over the place                christmas, but at least he caught                                                                                     a good fuck in childhood and without regards -blank- see yu kno, i cant write on tumblr atm bc something is wrong with my uhhhhhh

keyboard. it doesn’t allow me to , ,          delete the space between one anddd             another line. so i am writing this

                                   to you. it’s probably not really i guess to interesting just see that infinitesimal cube understood so , ,

uh, distantly, as me here, in this room, hanging out with whitman! as in i see ‘im, right here. he is in

the corner smiling to himself bout some private meditation, mostttttt likely. have you figured out this

is a msg in enjambments yet?, you are really cool and ring out , , , , , , despite, right?, whether or not or

            maybe regardless. PART II : : : : ERHEM: fast sadness folds in a toilet like down it you know like those soothing squares, gulls take to the particles after response to command goes lagging, and the aqueduct explodes filter to filter after longing for more than garbage could recall, prideful trash–

garbage i done made myself blind blabhah i done made a bad hither, done dash right into the fount of degrading. i feel very such things as i feel and call them detritus still. i am monstrous i am - big eye, i can fuck myself without any charity-help from anybody.

i am to call myself things like topaz once the giddy girth sloshes within a pictureframe's modest dimensions, and the sharks while snapping snapped alive by the implied sort of movement given only to starkly imperishable images that lighten you up at the art

show. well its time t-to start from the start and start a movement founded on a ginger ignorance of other movements. is i-t: is time to start from the beginning of focus way past bemused glance, ripe glare, teeth beside themselves w cavities of roe and garlic:

it’s time to inaccurately anticipate something, like we knew it was coming and wanted our surprise to look nice. anticipate the perfect slur, find a wide audience for that: it is, uh, time to enact maelstrom considerably, like, lofted above the saddest cloud's

drenching of itself: clouds they are clowns : be sure to recognize the hidden voice, what rattles us is not the mystery of how and logical wherefore but in transmuting some odd warfare of a distant crud's finding, that is - - - it is not what links but what is explained,

which for me is the distance crud, or clod, i call planet : am i a part of it or do i depart from its frequent accusings, importances, rudeness, and flat commodity, material, or just shattered booms hailing the demise of precept got so infrequent that one, less

righteous, is more thru the confessional of the lessness, a lesson : us, , rule, , : the sea like an antelope’s stride is, that is, like the picture purely between man, shark, and sea, of slopping sides over the frames of the picture: something by movement not volume,

by not expanse but a few flits of eye - big eye, - regardless of bigness it is, is and will be there for when the ranting stays, crucial delectable bizarre 'mischance of machinery' while the self goes further out, taken by the turning tides, and then yet this is a bit more

than mangling the heart by placing it on sleeve; this will always be here, distant, or like, remote!, yeh, better word!, you will disassociate whatever

from whatever, [edittttttttttt ttt ] from your blinding clarity [edit] : : you will take an eye out for the bossman cannot : since

wills black as char make the crud, clod, dusty clod, a piece of crud: "shouldn't be so hard to have a nice day." Mutter and grimace. wake up to totally remove yourself in the only way possible, that is, from the world of dreamstate: and piss dole me a new

self of yuck and maelstrom. PART III : : drying the die out of to play craps . or somethings like pinochle of life itself, shouted madman. made anterior who wants the soul who wants it made outside of use I see. something— / something digs for a very hinting it goes like something as must to stop,

as much to save the world as self by saving declamatoriations [!!!!!] declarations yeas, declaiming . / well go ahead and rue the ensuing bratty corps of lifer’s whom stake much on image / nada -rtiet- [edit] editwrite made something is^^^ within that words

them words something letters inverted salamander-language seen spanking new by breaking every rule, ruling over breaks like you had more time. / discovering the body, etc. and it all makes you want to imprint on the wise world some attmept, to do more

by removal of sense if sense is not snuffed out already by now in this senseless world, just going on and on!!!! to the creakiest hints shuffling under floorboards like captives from the bad!! quite the soul search. make more inklings, don't harry yourself, I say,

to discover a bunch of cool shit, also, uh, master it. master thinking in language. maybe i always never did nitpick and nitpick only yeup that is me I knit together the nits the nits are scratchiness, a scratchiness. then I think about how nice honesty is as re the slow

deliverance or rather sparing of us all by the most high / as by and by,, we grope for some bigger socket to launch a sensitivity of me I we errybody into, and me and ha and ha. ALERT. cannot diverge ALERT ALERT ALERT!!! Whoop show./Whopp whoop

whoop, can’t but take it down I wsiwiwsh i wish i was blind, i wish the rails weren’t so sharky : : so bloome [!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] 5$%uh September 13, 2014. Leave a comment Edit POME34 there is language to report, a monster essence. hammer away

and believe till the growth gets funnier and then throw it away handsomely / feel it run like sand thurr rthru your thru thru you[edit]hrought your fineger.s ample tome, im ean time, to write, requite certain disposable nothings like a big random power/ mind goes

and glowers at itself again. ah you kno. broken triangle. anything broken becomes an angle or many. a ziggidy line or somesuch. / so break a whole, rift it to life as some ziggidy line. some sorta line that breathes with uncaring for anything like information

but retaineing formless form as if your occupation was with something else/ let relax the

strands in you ankel, let the angel fall my dear / dont deny it / yur a good person, dammit. all the se facile blunders. all this. these stupid years of making. in the making,

or just making, about too. etc. greqat. great magnificent quiet [edit] is that which i search for and make and build into the most complex geometric shape for good / only to rift it and - - make what people would holy-fy even more bettr than the more better it was /

bby oh how you go on concealing pleanty of plaintiveness. am i nice ?? so what if you are. youre a stara special star . . . yr starved, strande line you ssay you are a bulk of issues you say you dance like a man made

of things .. light as wing . dwindle. wind. light as wind. so much so much to destroy sitll. my eyes need more blurs t[edit] to in order make everything wrong rightwise. foreget aspbergers. or any label / speak pretty

mane’s ruffling sinousity in wind. / a bloke with flow / gnarly [edit] speak charlie stude the sirfur, charlie stud is he who rides the wave, rides wthe wave in /by just meeting

wit ha hello and a hahaha at ripe ombustive ripe combustiveness at / a large offense

[little-ball-of-fear]

A Little drama about New Year Resolutions

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides Pairing: Prinxiety, Logicality Warnings: sexual suggestions, I guess there may be some swearing (like always when I write sth) Prompt used: “hamster”; “I wasn’t that drunk!”; “jam”

Time: December 31st, forenoon. Place: Living room in Mind Palace.

Virgil: *sitting on the carpet cross-legged with „Prisoner of Azkaban” in hard cover on his lap; on the book lies blank paper and purple pen* I still find this pointless… Roman: *lying on his back on the floor with his legs on the armchair; in his hand is opened lined notebook with Winx on the cover and red glitter gel pen* Well, you agreed so don’t grumble. Who want to start? Logan: *sitting on the couch with lap desk on which lies notebook covered in leather and simple blue pen; speaks and writes simultaneously* Okay, let it be me. Sooner we start, sooner we’ll be done with this. This year I will read as many books as I am old. Patton: *lying on his stomach on the pile of pillows on the floor, waving his legs in the air; in front of him on the floor lies little heart-shaped notebook and a box of crayons* Wow, ambitiously! So I will learn as many new recipes as I am old! Roman: And I will learn as many new songs! Virgil: Ugh… So I… I will be as old as I am old. Logan: I’m afraid that’s not how New Year resolution work, Virgil. Roman: You could just pretend you’re trying! Virgil: Okay, okay! So I will write as many poems as I am old… Patton: Awwww! So cute! *looks with puppy eyes at Virgil who rolls his eyes* Logan: Patton, maybe your new year resolution should be using the word “cute” less? Patton: *with terrified face* But why? It’s such a cute word! Logan: That’s why… Roman: Logic, maybe you should make a resolution to loosen up your pants? Logan: What do you mean? What’s wrong with the size of my underwear? You think I put on weight? Roman: What? No, I just… Nevermind. By the way, as we’re talking about clothes, this year I decide to give some of my clothes for poor people. Virgil: This year I decide to be poor. Roman: If you want my moon sweatshirt just say it. Virgil: This year I decide to take it. Patton: Virgil, New Year resolution are about giving, not taking. Virgil: That’s why I’m helping Roman to fulfill his resolution! Logan: Fair enough for me… Patton: I decide to make more jam this year. Maybe from other fruits. What do you think about apricot? Or maybe huckleberry? Logan: *looking at Patton with indescribable love in his eyes* I think that’s a great idea. I will even help you. Yeah, that will be my next resolution. Roman: Just remember to ad a note „and I will not snack while helping”. Logan: *blushing when the rest is laughing* I don’t understand your insinuations, Princey. Maybe you should make a resolution to stop drinking too much wine? Roman: *suddenly as blushed as Logan* Excuse me! When supposedly I drank too much wine?! Virgil: Last Saturday on the party. Roman: I wasn’t that drunk! Virgil: You stuffed your cheeks with marshmallows and entitle yourself The Great Hamster Prince. Patton: And then you established in your Principality „The Great and Amazing Hamster Race” with my plushie cat and spring powered dog we bought on summer vacations at the sea. Logan: And then you lose… Roman: Okay, okay, I got it, I’ll write it down. But Virgil has to promise he’ll stop meowing  and scratching the doors in the middle of night. Virgil: Of course I will stop but only if Logan will stop changing the wifi password. Logan: I am doing this because we want you to set a normal sleeping schedule instead of spending all nights on Tumblr. Both I and Patton just want your good. Virgil: *growling quietly* Yes, mom… Okay, this year I will try to go to sleep not later than at 2am. Patton: 1:30. Virgil: Okay, 1:30! So what’s the password? Logan: „Go to sleep for Fox sake”. Without spaces. Virgil: Ha ha ha, very funny… Watch out, Patton, your position as the Main Punster is in danger. Maybe you should make a resolution to tell even more jokes this year? Logan: … *killing Virgil with his eyes* Okay, I’ll stop changing the password. Roman: And do we have any group resolutions? More going out together? Cinema, camping, amusement parks and stuff like that? Patton: More honest talks! We have to start solving our problems together. Logan: More youtube videos with us. We should work harder than last year. Virgil: *panicking ‘cause everybody’s looking at him* More us. Roman: Virgil, you want to reproduce? Did you learn to divide your mycelium or just want to visit me tonight? *wink wink* Patton: Roman, what are you talking about? You and Virgil have mushroom plantation in your room? Virgil: Logan will explain it to you someday… Logan: Should it be my New Year resolution? Roman: Yes! *gets up and starts writing fast in Logan’s notebook with his gel pen* Virgil: *crawling on the couch and looking over Roman’s shoulder* Fellatio has two ‘l’ in it. Logan: *red as a tomato. A tomato soaked in blood. And closed in British bus. That is on fire. On Mars.* DON’T WRITE IT IN MY NOTEBOOK! Patton: What are you writing? What’s that about? *trying to see the notes* Logan: Nothing! *takes his notebook and runs to his room* Patton: But I want to know! Why you all can know but I can’t? *runs after Logan*

Time: About 2 hours later. Place: Living room in Mind Palace.

Roman: *sitting on the couch hugging Virgil; they’re both covered with one blanket* Are they still in his room? Virgil: Yup. Roman: Do you think we can write down „Making Logicality canon” as our New Year resolution? Virgil: Don’t you hear that moans? We did it before New Year…

[chopperiv]

Alien Covenant Is Bad

I tried to think of a clever title. I failed.

I saw Alien: Covenant the other day and I figured I’d write up some of my thoughts, because holy hell this movie is bad. If you’re an Alien fan, this movie is going to piss you off. Hell, if you’re a fan of good moviemaking and horror films in general, this film will piss you off.

Spoilers abound ahead, so either see the movie first (please don’t, spare yourself the pain) or give up on caring about Alien: Covenant spoilers. Also this is going to be long, I’ve got a lot of shit to say and there is so much wrong with this movie that this is basically going to read like a plot synopsis. Here we go.

The movie starts with a short scene where the film’s main antagonist, the android David 8 from the previous film Prometheus, is activated for the first time. It’s basically just there to set up that David is in this movie. I have no problems with this scene, especially since David’s played by Michael Fassbender and I love that guy.

The problems actually start with the next scene, on the colonist ship Covenant. Walter, another android played by Fassbender (he’s a later model, more advanced but with less emotion), goes around the ship checking on all the colonists and crewmembers in hypersleep. Then he activates the solar sails to recharge the ship’s power supply, and we get to our first major misstep. For some reason, the star in this solar system...does...something? which causes a “neutrino burst”, which is basically a big wave of stuff that blasts the Covenant and fucks a bunch of shit up. The crew is awakened due to the emergency, but the captain (James Franco, absolutely wasted since he, well...) dies when the inside of his hypersleep pod explodes into flames. (Seriously, I didn’t even know it was Franco until a scene after this where the female lead, Katherine Waterston, watches a video message from him. That is all the screentime he gets. His hypersleep pod immolates him, and then he says hi to his wife while rock-climbing in a video.)

The reason this is a misstep is because the “neutrino burst” is just...a thing that happens. It isn’t set up (it’s not even like it’s something established in any of the other movies), its only purpose it to get the plot where it needs to be, and it’s described as being “a completely random event”. This becomes important later, hold on to that.

So now that James Franco is dead, command of the ship is transferred over to Billy Crudup, who is a complete and utter moron. I cannot stress that enough. The only bad thing that happens in this movie that isn’t a result of his stupid decisions is the neutrino burst. He tells the crew they can’t have a funeral for the dead former captain because...uh...he’s an idiot, but they do anyway. This makes him mad. He whines to his wife (everybody on this ship is married to someone else on the ship, but that’s never mentioned) about how the company passed him up to be the ship’s captain and he thinks it’s because of his religion. That is garbage, you idiot. It’s because you’re a moron who couldn’t be trusted to competently lead a Boy Scout troop. This whole religious thing is mentioned one more time in the movie. It is just as jarring and out of place there too.

Anyway, a couple of the crew go outside the ship to repair the solar sails, when one of them, Danny McBride (who is named Tennessee. Really. I don’t even need to think of a snarky nickname for him, they actually call him Tennessee.) gets some kind of weird transmission from a nearby planet. When they get back in the ship, they decipher the transmission to be a recording of a woman humming “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver.

What.

Now, this is kind of silly, but in this movie this is just kind of the goofy icing on the cake. Of course Tennessee immediately recognizes the tune a garbled transmission is humming, because plot, and they decide it would be a good idea to go to the nearby planet and figure out where the transmission came from.

BUT WAIT. That isn’t actually why they go to the planet. No, that would at least make a little bit of sense. They decide to go there...because this planet is basically Earth But Better. The gravity is only slightly less than Earth’s and the air is breathable, so the ENTIRE CREW (except for Waterston’s character, who is our resident Not-Ripley) decides “fuck the original colonization spot, this place looks great. Let’s go check it out.”

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET BACK IN YOUR SLEEPYTIME PODS. This is not a negotiable thing. You have been sent on a mission by the series’ local Mega-Corporation. You are all trained god damn professionals. Mark the spot of this so-called miracle planet on your star charts, make a log noting it, and continue on your way. Now let’s bring back that whole “random event” thing: one of the reasons stated for the crew wanting to go to this planet rather than continue on is because they don’t want to risk another neutrino burst happening. WHICH IT WON’T. Two reasons: 1, the burst was a random fucking event, meaning it’s highly unlikely that a second one would be happening any time soon, and 2, if you keep moving towards your destination, you won’t be anywhere near the scary explosive star anymore! That seems like the more logical choice if you’re worried about star burps!

Oh yeah, and they try to explain why they hadn’t found the planet before. One of the characters says that the Mega-Corp scanned this area of space incredibly thoroughly. And he makes sure to stress they couldn’t possibly have missed it. So what’s the explanation for why this planet went unnoticed?

“THEY MUST HAVE MISSED IT.”

That’s it. That’s all they say to wave away this idiocy. That is stupid. Are you beginning to understand why I don’t like this film yet? We haven’t even gotten to the Aliens themselves.

But no. After a brief argument with Not-Ripley, which basically boils down to “This is a really fucking bad idea.” “It definitely is and I have no good counterarguments other than we are lazy and this film is lazy,” Idiot Captain decides to go to the planet anyway to take a look around. We jump to them about to orbit the planet, and they say that the ionosphere around the planet will make communication difficult. But you know what’s garbage about this? This comes into play approximately once. In a moment that, iirc, nobody would have been able to answer the phone anyway. Why have it even impede communications in the first place if you’re not going to do anything with it?

Anyway they head down to the planet in a dropship, with Tennessee and two randos staying on the Covenant. Now, riddle me this: if you were going down as the first scouting team on a completely alien planet, one with tons of plant life and possible animal life, and new microscopic bacterial life that could absolutely fuck you up, what kind of gear would you bring? You’d bring full protective gear, right? Hazmat suits, maybe. Protective breathers and no exposed skin at the least.

NOT THESE FUCKOS. They look like they’re getting ready to go on a camping trip rather than explore an alien landscape. Maybe my joke earlier about Captain Idiot commanding a Boy Scout troop wasn’t too far off.

And guess what happens. Right off the bat, they split the party, with the professional botanist grabbing some samples and a bodyguard sticking with her. The bodyguard goes off to have a smoke, and while he does so, he accidentally steps on some mushroom pod thing. They release a bunch of black spores, which...coalesce into a single tiny cloud, fly into his ear, and burrow into his ear canal. This would not have happened if you’d worn actual protective gear, morons.

Meanwhile, in the main group, they find the source of the transmission. It’s a broken up recording of some lady (it’s incredibly hard to see if there are any recognizable facial features or not) while she...does...something? I dunno, there’s a room full of stuff and she appears to be controlling the room, though I can’t be sure because it’s just a recording and nothing is happening in this room. This is all we get for the transmission. It is completely dropped after this point. Not even confronting the villain later, asking if he sent it out to try and lure people to the planet or something. Nothing.

Somebody in the group shoves his face into a bunch more of the pod things and snorts up a cloud of spores. Soon both he and ear-spore-guy are puking blood, and they both are rushed back to the dropship. Ear-spore-guy gets there first, and he’s rushed to the dropship’s med bay. The mechanic, who was working on something that apparently broke when they landed, tries to help, but then...

Surprise! Alien time! Our first alien creature of the movie pops out of ear-spore-guy’s back, and by god the CGI is terrible on it. There’s a difference between “moving unnaturally” and “movement that clearly shows this is CGI”. Anyway, the creature is weirdly adorable. It looks like a creepy little puppy thing. It kills botanist-lady, but mechanic-lady manages to lock it in the medbay while she grabs a shotgun. This is after slipping in ear-spore-guy’s blood like a god damn Three Stooges routine and crushing her foot in the door as she tries to close it. I should not be laughing during the first big action scene, movie. And then...

Ugh.

Mechanic-lady missed EVERY SHOT SHE TAKES AT THE ALIEN and instead BLOWS UP THE ENTIRE DROPSHIP, herself included.

THIS FAILS TO KILL THE ALIEN.

The main group gets back just in time to watch the thing blow up. Snorty guy dies when another alien rips out of his throat. It and the alien from the dropship then murder the shit out of a couple of the group and Walter loses a hand protecting Not-Ripley. One of the aliens is killed, but suddenly, the remaining alien is driven off by...

David, the android from the beginning of the movie! Firing a flare gun into the air! Which...wait a fucking second.

This thing doesn’t have any fucking eyes. Why did the flare scare it off? I don’t get it.

Anyway David has long hair now, despite being a robot and therefore unable to grow hair. I don’t get this either. He tells the surviving crew members to come with him, and they all walk through a massive necropolis filled with hundreds of dead people, frozen mid-death. Uhhhh...is nobody going to mention this? No? Just going to keep following the creepy robot man? OK then. You are all idiots. Especially the captain. David brings them to his cool science lab area where he does cool science.

David basically says “yeah, go ahead and hang out here for a while. It’s cool.” He gives himself a haircut to make himself look more like Walter, and you already know what’s going to happen from that one line, don’t you? He and Walter bond for a while, and he teaches Walter to play the recorder. (It’s not a flute, guys. It’s a fucking recorder.) As he’s teaching him, he delivers the immortal line: “I’ll do the fingering”. Now...Mr. Fassbender. Michael. Mike. Please tell me: how many takes did that line take? How many times did you have to say “I’ll do the fingering”? How many times did you say “I’ll do the fingering” without anybody - you, Ridley Scott, the second you acting in this scene - saying “Maybe that line is kind of dumb, we should change it because it is dumb”?

...”I’ll do the fingering”. Jesus.

They get a radio set up to talk to Tennessee on the ship, and he asks to talk to his wife, aka Mechanic-Lady. They tell him she’s dead. His response is basically “Oh no! That sucks.” Nobody in this film ever reacts to somebody dying in a realistic way except maybe when they watch the aliens burst out of people, and it’s really obvious and annoying. He just found out his wife is dead! He should be absolutely hysterical, or at the very least, he should be sobbing. Nobody in this movie brought their acting A-game, it seems.

Except Michael Fassbender. That man is incredible. I give guff to the whole “I’ll do the fingering” line, but the scenes between Walter and David are absolutely the best in the movie, and it’s really cool to watch Michael Fassbender basically playing off of himself. There were a few times where I forgot that both Fassbenders were only in the shot due to movie magic. And he made each character seem genuinely distinct from the other with just their expressions and voices.

But enough about my love for Michael Fassbender. Another character, Madame McDipshit, decides now would be a good time to wander off from the group to go wash her face. And while I can understand wanting to wash the blood and gore of your former co-workers off your face, this is not the time, and you chose the absolute wrong place to do it. She goes so far away from the group (despite Captain Idiot’s warning for her not to go too far) that nobody can even hear her scream when the throatburster alien comes back, now fully grown, and rips her to pieces. It even decapitates her! Though that may be why she didn’t scream. Doesn’t explain how nobody heard the alien’s loud pre-kill screeching though.

David and Captain Idiot discover the alien eating Madame McDipshit’s headless corpse while her head floats in the pool she was washing her face in. Lovely. David tries to make friends with the thing, and it seems like he’s about to succeed, what with the alien standing up straight and seemingly calming down, not attempting to kill David or his deliciously fleshy human friend...and then Captain Idiot shoots it a bunch. It gets mad, he shoots it some more, and it finally dies. David gets pissed. Now comes the other moment of Captain Idiot’s religiousness: he says to David that he saw the devil when he was young, and he didn’t look like David. Uhhh...thanks for sharing? What the hell does that have to do with anything?

Now, Captain Idiot has David at gunpoint. He’s already incredibly suspicious of him. And we know from both the original Alien and Prometheus that androids can function with only their head. Hell, in Prometheus it was David himself who was just a head. So what does Captain Idiot do? Does he shoot David, taking him offline so they can interrogate him later when he’s been made harmless? ...I’ve been calling him Captain Idiot, do you really think he’d make a rational decision like that? Instead Captain Idiot follows David down through David’s science chambers into some kind of underground tunnel. And guess what are in this tunnel? Facehugger eggs! And David, cool as anything, tells Captain Idiot “hey dipshit, stick your face in this egg. It’s totally safe. Trust me dude, have I done anything suspicious so far in this movie?”

So he does. And the audience laughs. And Captain Idiot gets facehugged. Congratulations you fucking moron. You had so many opportunities to avoid this fate, and you literally just walked into it. Congratu-fucking-lations.

Everybody who’s not Captain Idiot has decided “hey, you know what would be a good idea? Getting the fuck out of here.” And so they call Tennessee to get them out with a second dropship. Convenient! And while they’re...I dunno, playing solitaire? (I forget what they were doing, I saw this film a few days ago and all this has just kind of been stewing in me since then.) the chestburster in Captain Idiot pops out and it looks...nothing like the chestburster in the original. That thing was all pink and armless and weird and rather phallic. This chestburster is basically just an adult form - black, sleek, spindly arms - but...tiny.

And then it and David praise the sun together.

Yeah, they basically do this at each other. I guess David was making friends with it? It’s goofy and stupid and weird.

So you may have suspected it by now, but yes, this movie reveals that the Xenomorphs, the classic black aliens, the face of the Alien franchise (along with Sigourney Weaver)...are in fact NOT aliens. They are David’s creations. He took the black goo stuff from Prometheus, altered a bunch of insects with it, and they basically overran the planet until there were no animals left. He continued to refine his experiments into the spore pod things we saw in the beginning, and the facehuggers/xenomorphs we know and are terrified of.

This...

This is, without a doubt, the worst part of the entire movie.

Nobody was asking for the backstory of the Xenomorphs. Nobody. We watched Alien, and we all just accepted that there was a species of horrific black creatures that were really fucking good at killing things. Then Aliens gave us the Xenomorph queen, showing us how these creatures have a kind of insectoid hive structure. And that was fine. That was all we needed. Nobody asked any questions regarding how the Xenomorphs came to exist. We just kind of accepted that they do, and that’s all we needed or cared to know. But then this movie comes out, and suddenly, the title of this entire franchise is a fucking lie. If they were created by humans, or a human creation rather, then they’re not Aliens. Now, they’re Some Robot Guy’s Science Fair Project, which is a much lamer name for a franchise. That’s like if they made a sequel to, I don’t know, Titanic that revealed that the name of the ship in the original movie was actually the Bumfucker. Suddenly, there’s no reason for the movie to be named what it is! “Well, they’re still aliens because they came from another planet!” If a person was born on Mars, would they be an alien? No. It’s basically the same principle here. It’s a creation of Earth that happened to get started on another planet. They were Aliens before because everything about them was alien. They had no origin, no knowable motives, no thoughts or emotions, and they clearly didn’t look like something from Earth. But this movie gave them an origin. So now, they’re not alien anymore.

So David comes back upstairs, has another chat with Walter about how humans suck and robots are perfect and so much better. Walter, in turn, replies “Bitch, you thought ‘Ozymandias’ was written by Lord Byron when it was written by Percy Bysse Shelley. You’re not perfect, you don’t know SHIT.” Then David kisses him and stabs him in the neck, putting him offline. Walter doesn’t give a shit though, and reactivates as soon as David leaves the room. Then David finds Not-Ripley snooping through his stuff, and he kisses her. Neither Not-Ripley nor Walter are very happy about this, so Walter smashes him about the place for a little while and we get some sick Fassbender on Fassbender action. ...As in they fight. After the Fassbender-Fassbender kiss earlier I feel I should clarify.

Not-Ripley and the other survivors (one of whom nearly got facehugged while looking for the captain, but one of his buddies pried it off) make their escape to Tennessee’s dropship during the fight. Walter’s a newer model with regenerative capabilities (I guess his severed hand is more than he can handle though), so he basically no-sells everything David throws at him. He gets the upper hand and goes to smash David’s head in with a rock. David starts monologuing though, buying himself time to fumble for a knife out of Walter’s view. Walter lifts the rock as David gets his hand on the knife, and we cut away, not knowing who won the fight. Then Walter stumbles out of the science lab towards Tennesee’s dropship, so I guess that settles that cliffhanger. And hey! The Xenomorph shows up! It grabs onto the dropship as it’s taking off, and Not-Ripley fights it off while they try to get away. The Xenomorph is killed, they make it back to the ship ok, and everybody’s safe! Hooray!

Except the movie’s still going. It’s not over yet.

As Not-Ripley settles in for a good night’s sleep (you can sleep after all the shit that just happened? Damn.) the ship’s computer informs her that an unidentified life-form is roaming the ship. Turns out the guy that almost got facehugged got hugged long enough to get implanted with a chestburster. “Long enough” is apparently less than 5 seconds. Why did the thing stick around on John Hurt’s face so long in the original movie then? It was on there for a few hours. Argh.

Remember the two randos who were hanging out on the ship with Tennessee? Yeah, apparently they decided “all my friends and coworkers dying makes me horny. Let’s fuck in the shower.” The movie goes full slasher flick on us for a bit as the Xenomorph kills them. Those two characters could have been cut entirely and we would have lost practically nothing. Oh yeah, and for some reason we get some perspective shots from the Xenomorph’s POV while it’s crawling around in the ship. Remember my rant above about how the aliens are supposed to be alien? Yeah, this put the nail in that coffin. The Xenomorphs can apparently see just like we do! Though there is some weird goop in front of the camera. Still...it can see. Like humans do. It doesn’t have eyes. Rrrrgh. Long story short, Not-Ripley manages to eject the Xenomorph into space and all is well.

Until...omg! Walter was actually killed(?) by David and it’s David on the ship, not Walter! And Not-Ripley only figures this out as she and Tennesee, the only other survivor (yes, really) are going into hypersleep to continue their colonization mission (which they SHOULD have done to START WITH. Fucking Captain Idiot). David now has approximately 2000 colonists and thousands of human embryos to do his sick experiments on, and over 7 years before Not-Ripley is scheduled to wake up. Cliffhanger! Except...

How the fuck did David replace Walter? There was less than 30 seconds between the cut away from the end of their fight and the time when “Walter” showed up again heading towards the dropship. That means that in less than 30 seconds, David killed Walter, washed any of that white milky stuff androids in Alien have instead of blood off himself, stripped Walter, put on Walter’s clothes, and cut off his own fucking hand so that he could match Walter exactly. He even gave himself the battle damage Walter had sustained in their fight...which NONE OF THE CREW SAW. It was entirely for audience benefit. There is absolutely no way that David could have completely replaced Walter in that short amount of time. And it’s pretty much impossible to not see this coming. You can basically have David’s plan to kill and replace Walter pegged from the minute he cuts his inexplicable hair to better resemble Walter. Even if you didn’t have it realized from that point, the fact that they didn’t show David’s death would make the average astute moviegoer realize they’re going to reveal that David actually won the fight instead just to have the twist. It’s stupid and obvious and I need more words for stupid.

Anyway, since this is the end of the movie, that’s all I’m going to say about Alien: Covenant. I could probably say a lot more, especially if the movie was fresher in my mind, but hell if I’m going to go see it again. Do yourself a favour: Do not see this movie. It’s not even that good when viewed as its own movie and not part of the Alien franchise. I was able to predict four or five jumpscares in this movie down to the second. It’s really predictable. And they said “fuck” way too many times. I’m clearly not averse to foul language, but they were really flaunting their 18A rating and using the word way more than it needed to be used. This movie is not worth your time. I’ve already given you a basic plot synopsis anyway, so just reread this if you’re considering seeing the movie. Trust me, I’ve saved you money, time, and rage.

tl:dr: Alien: Covenant sucked and I hate it. Don’t watch it.

[einstein-robin-hood-blog]

Untold Tales of the Proletariat, No. 4 - Renaissance Country Club, Dramatis Personae, Part 1

Call me Ishmael, for I now embark on a stormy sea of words: a series of Untold Tales about the Renaissance Country Club, may its memory be a blessing and where all my changes were. See, Neil Young, Helpless, 1970. This post is about the club itself and the scoundrels, ne’er-do-wells, and drug fiends who called it home. 

Frank the Owner

Frank was the owner. Not sure if he had partners or owned the whole thing himself, but who cares? We didn’t see much of him. His office was in the front and we were in the back. Occasionally he’d come in the back looking for Bimbo, and tell me to pick up a piece of trash on the floor. Managing by walking around and talking to people, as it later came to be known. He also PERSONALLY handed out the Christmas bonuses. 

Frank owned a Cord, which was a Fancy Ass Car that Gram Parsons wrote a song about. See, The New Soft Shoe, 1973. Parked in a garage right outside the kitchen. We’d often see him take it out for a spin. Say what you will about Frank, he has some serious class. And enough cash to burn a wet mule. 

1936 Cord 810 Phaeton. This is a pic of Frank’s ACTUAL car. Sold by a subsequent owner in 2016 for $154,000. I once licked the bumper.

Jerry and Joe

Jerry Bimbo was the maitre d’hotel (MASTER OF HOUSE). I have refrained from using real names in these Untold Tales, but can’t help it here. Given all the hijinks and pranks that the veterans played on the newbies, it took me a long time to realize that no one was playing a joke on me when they’d say “Go talk to Bimbo” and that this fellow’s name was actually “Bimbo.” Blue velvet tux with extremely frilly shirt. Porn star mustache. Eventually changed his name to Beretta. Jerry Beretta, that is, not Beretta Bimbo. Decent guy, treated us pretty well when he wasn’t yelling at us about something.

Joe C was the catering manager and he worked hand in hand with Jerry, making sure the food was ready when it was supposed to be, and that the Cro-Magnons in the back didn’t poison anyone. Similar to Jerry, nice enough when he wasn’t yelling. Random memory of him going on about how much he liked watercress on a sandwich. Amazing what one remembers, 50 years later. 

Joe Banks

After Sonny met his doom, Joe was in charge of the kitchen until Big Bob came along. Joe was a Williston Park homie a couple of years older than us, so we all knew him.

I loved working for Joe, and he loved me working for him. It was my first real job, and I was ready to work hard, and that made Joe happy. He’d give me something to do (150 deviled eggs, sure; 100 stuffed mushrooms, got it; Chicken Cordon Blue, what is it? OK, I can do that. ). I barely knew what those things were, but he’d explain them to me, and off I’d go. You learn a lot by doing and working at it until it tastes good. And this was a fancy-ass North Shore joint!  With a pimply-face, snot-nosed kid (ME) preparing these exquisite delicacies (MUCH, MUCH, TOO MUCH MORE ABOUT THIS IN FUTURE INSTALLMENTS). It was here I got hooked on the kitchen adrenaline of cranking it out. See, Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential, 2000. Beano no doubt knows of what I speak. 

I have a VERY VIVID memory of Joe making some kind of bet with Head Altar Boy Jimmy (HABJ), who was the hors d’oeuvre cook at the time. I don’t recall the subject or the terms other than that Joe said HABJ could chop off his dick if he was wrong. After a fact-finding mission, HABJ gleefully reported, with a large cleaver in his fist, that he was right and that Joe was wrong. The cleaver was of a size that could have been used by Fred Flintstone to shatter boulders. 

Joe, a Man of Honor, complied and bravely met his fate. As a crowd gathered to witness the reckoning, Joe unzipped and laid his member on the large butcher block table (NOT A HEALTH CODE VIOLATION - I CHECKED). HABJ raised the cleaver high, and as it sped downwards towards a new life for Joe, there was a collective intake of breath that would have impressed the most advanced yoga teacher. Joe withdrew Little Joe at what seemed like the impossible last minute. There may have been a slight loss of hair, but Joe wasn’t saying.

Joe went on to accomplish great things in the restaurant business. Had a nice place of his own in the Hamptons, and became a pillar of the community. Sadly, he died in a small plane crash just a few years back. So let me say, with all love and sincerity, may his memory be a blessing.

MY ONE GREAT REGRET IN LIFE

When I couldn’t find a date for the prom, Joe suggested that I take Linda. “Who’s Linda?” I asked. “She’s my wife,” Joe responded, in all sincerity. She never got to go to her prom, and was apparently willing. Sadly, I declined the offer, in hopes of meeting someone who was, shall we say, more available. Meeting that person was still a few years off. So I blew my chance to take Linda to the prom and, when my classmates asked who she was, I could have told them: “She’s my boss’s wife.”

Big Bob

As great as Joe was, Big Bob was the worst. Or, to be charitable, he was the least great. He was big and built and liked to boast about how tough he was. Lots of yelling. He didn’t drink coffee, he drank tea, with like eight tea bags in his stupid New York Giants mug (Jets fan here.) We coffee drinkers (I was on the bean by then. Started out with coffee milkshakes and quickly moved onto straight java. More about this later.) saw this as a character flaw, but never said anything. Did I mention the yelling? It was kind of like this, except in a kitchen, not a barracks:

But, in Big Bob’s defense, he didn’t freak out when I broke his fancy-ass knife. I was chopping some onions with his knife. BIG BOB’S KNIFE, DON’T MESS WITH BIG BOB’S KNIFE. He was letting me use it while we were in the middle of some stupid argument. I was stupid and he didn’t know why I didn’t just shut up because I wasjustsomepunkkidwhoknewnothingsojustshutupbeforeIcrippleyou. 

As I was contemplating my response - something along the lines of “I’m doing the best I can and why don’t YOU shut up”-  Big Bob’s knife broke. Snapped clean in half. Total loss. I wasn’t even honking on it, and Big Bob was right in front of me, so he couldn’t accuse me of goofing around with it. So, as I was fearing for my life, he took the knife and threw it in the trash. “It happens,” he said. End of story. One point for Big Bob.

On the other hand, he did saw my frisbee in half. Not to be judgmental, but Big Bob should burn for all eternity in the Bad Place for what he did. Some background: we worked hard in a really hot kitchen and dishwashing room. When we had some downtime, we’d go out into the parking lot and throw the disc around. Maybe five or ten minutes of fresh air. On the day in question, Big Bob came out to join us. Cool! Oh wait, he’s taking the frisbee inside. I guess this is his way of telling us break is over. Oh, he’s taking it over to the band saw, to pretend to cut it in half. Funny. Oh, he’s actually cutting it in half. Bummer. Let’s dig Dante up and have him write a new circle of hell for this indignity.

I suppose I had some small measure of revenge. We got paid on Thursdays. I was scheduled to work on Friday, but was paid up to date, so I blew off the last day. The timing was perfect, I could skip out without any hassle about getting my last paycheck. I didn’t want to deal with whatever fresh frisbee-related hell Big Bob had in store. Avoidance! It’s the best. I spent the whole day playing softball at Sagamore field, where I made a spectacular diving catch in the outfield.

Years later, I stopped in for a visit. By then, I had gotten into law school and was hailed as a conquering hero. Big Bob remembered me blowing him off, and told me I was crazy to think he would make my last day miserable, He said he planned to have me sit in the corner and eat cake all day. As the French say, “My ass.”

Accumulated Wisdom of Big Bob

If you eat too much Italian sausage at a picnic down at the Jersey Shore and the sausage gets stuck in your throat, here’s what you do. Take a bottle of creme de menthe (pronounced CREEM DA MINT; and get the green, not the white) and chug it down. It will blast the sausage right out of there. Guaranteed. But who brings bottles of creme de menthe to Jersey Shore sausage parties? We never asked.

“She was only the fisherman’s daughter, but I showed her my rod and oh, did she reel.” He’d say this about ten times a day, apropos of nothing, and then look at us as if he had just delivered the ten commandments.

“We laugh and joke, and take a little dope, but we don’t fuck around.” OK, maybe slightly more on point, but we didn’t need to hear it 20 times a day.

“Fuck with the baker and you get the bun, fuck with me and you don’t get none.” Finally, something that makes sense. Words I have tried to live by.